The Choices We Make
by The Fit Nerd
Summary: Darian is an adventurer struggling to find his place in the world. After an encounter with a vampire, his life is turned upside down and now he must walk the path the Daedric Princes had thrown him on. Will he succumb to the darkness that haunts him or will he overcome and embrace the hero inside? Loosely follows Dawnguard DLC. T for violence/language/slight suggestive content.
1. Demons in the Dark

**As much as I wish I did, I do not own the Elder Scrolls series. That's Bethesda's baby. I do, however, own Darian and some other original characters, so enjoy!**

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Chapter 1: Demons in the Dark

The shadows ahead danced freely in the flickering light of an amateur campfire. With every step Darian took, the rough voices of men became more distinct. He took a deep breath. This time, he had to be perfect. His reputation couldn't afford him to miss his chance; a little boy's life hung in the balance as well.

The summer night was warm but he wished the clouds would pass so the moons and stars could give him just a little more light. Darian always loved how the moons reflected different colors and the countless stars twinkled mysteriously as he hunted deer in the forests of Riften.

This night he found himself in the Reach, hugging the shadows as he edged around a small cliff with only inches to spare down to an inlet against the river.

It's a good thing the drop looked only twenty-five feet or so, Darian wasn't the smoothest when it came to heights. Still, he moved cautiously. He had only one chance to take these bandits by surprise and he had no idea what to expect. His contact had told him that there was more than two bandits, which wasn't to daunting; Darian had once cleared out a bandit camp by himself in the middle of the day. He had taken a few hits and needed some health potions, sure, but he did it.

Darian, still crouched, edged further out of his hiding place to see if he could identify those below him. Leaning slightly, he could see the river and the camp, tucked into a wall of rock. Three tents with sleeping rolls and lanterns were haphazardly set up around a campfire. On the table was a quiver of arrows and a plate with bread and salmon steak and a few tankards. He could see a chest on the side of one tent. _Wonder what's in that..._ He could count three bandits below him, mildly about their business. _Well, this shouldn't be_ too _difficult. If I can line my shot up right, that is._

The campfire illuminated Jorah, the boy who matched the description Darian was given by the kid's nobleman father in Whiterun, was guarded by two bandits, a dark elf and a Nord. The elf had an elven bow propped next to him as he sat on a stump, eating stew, while the Nord paced back and forth, armed only with an iron sword. Jorah sat tied by the foot to the stump, a bowl of stew sat untouched at his feet. The third bandit was facing away, but Darian could tell he was orismer by his greenish skin and wide, muscular back. He seemed to be stirring what smelled like horker meat and potatoes in a cooking spit and pot over a smaller fire, too intent on what he was doing to notice the slight shadow Darian was surely making from across the way. Darian exhaled slowly, hoping against hope that the orc didn't glance up.

Salty sweat trickled down his brow and stung the corner of his eye, forcing him to blink rapidly to clear it. Darian reached behind his head and counted four arrows left. That damn pack of wolves this morning had exhausted his supply, and he couldn't even recover the arrows since the tips had broken. Three targets, all armed. After his first two shots, his position would be exposed and they would be on guard, meaning he would have to fight. Wishing he was rich enough to buy hundreds of arrows, he drew one and set it aside. He rummaged through his bag to retrieve the last of his poison. Only enough for a single arrow. He'd have to take out his most dangerous target first, so that he could focus on a two-on-one fight. Dipping the tip of the arrow into the poison, he listened to the singing of the Nord bandit awaiting their ransom money.

 _We who served  
for those great learned men  
Who hid dark secrets_

 _Of treasure too grand to spend.  
In greed, we who served  
Their maps, their plans, and lives we took  
Alas we forgot with learned men  
A grand treasure is but only a book  
_

Nocking the arrow in place, Darian decided that as much as he wanted to kill the Nord first for shaming his father's warrior bard race with a terrible voice, the big Orc would be the most dangerous. Orcs can run quite fast and someone like Darian would likely need his full attention on one to bring him down. Which he wouldn't be able to do if the elf was firing arrows at him.

Taking a deep breath, he drew his bow, aiming slightly left of center mass at the Orc's wide back and fired. With a thwack, the arrow pierced the Orc's back who gasped and went down, upturning his soup as he did, the poison quickly doing its job. As the other bandits turned at the noise, Darian nocked a second arrow and drew, this time aiming for the elf. The arrow missed center mass, instead lodging itself into the elf's right thigh, causing him to fall to the ground as he reached for his weapon.

Mentally cursing to himself, Darian let go of his bow, and dropped down to the clearing. Sliding down the last few feet of rock he tucked and rolled as he came up drawing his sword just in time to parry the Nord's blow. The Nord was larger than Darian and stank of ale and sweat as he bore down on Darian's sword. Backing up, the bandit took a wide swing at Darian's neck, who dropped and rolled to the side, stabbing at his attacker's shin as he did. The bandit ignored the small wound and swiped at him again, this time barley missing his neck and catching a strap of his bag, ripping it off to the side. With a grunt, the Nord aimed a kick at Darian's head with his other foot. Darian felt his neck pop as he fell, his sword clattering from his fingers.

His world spinning, he could see the large Nord approaching, sword raised to deliver the final blow. Grabbing a handful of dirt, Darian threw it in the direction of the Nord's face causing the bandit to shout out in surprise. The distraction gave Darian just enough time to roll to his side and drive the heel of his iron boot directly into the shin wound. The bandit yelped as he went to his knees, his own sword falling from his hands. Darian drew his dagger and wasted no time plunging it into the heart, ending the Nord's life as quickly as he could.

Coughing, he stood, bloody dagger still in hand as he tried to catch his breath. A whimper behind him made him turn around. The elf, whom he had almost forgotten about entirely had a dagger on Jorah with a shaking hand.

"Stay- Stay right there or I'll open the boy's throat!" He stammered, frantic, favoring his left side. Darian put his hands up. _Shit, of course he could still walk._ Thinking quickly, he caught the boy's eye, crying silently as the elf's grip on his neck tightened. Darian fought down a snarl. He wasn't planning on botching this rescue. He had a soft spot for children. He addressed the bandit.

"You're willing to forfeit your ransom and kill a ten year old boy?" He let out a low whistle. "Not even the thieves of Riften are that bold."

"Stay back or I swear I'll… I'll-" stammered the elf, his fear radiating off of him as he brought the knife even closer to Jorah's throat.

"Okay, okay, okay... Just calm down, there," Darian kept talking, trying to buy time, "Look, you see? I'm not moving. Let's just talk about this."

"Fuck you! You just killed my friends! You- just stop talking!" the elf wheezed as tears threatened to fall down his face, "I didn't want any of this, I just needed money."

"And I've got money! And now you don't have to split it anymore. It's in my pack, just there," Darian said, pointing to his pack near the body of the dead Nord. He saw his chance just as the elf looked away.

"Jorah, duck!" There was a flash of brown streaking towards the ground from above drawing the attention of the bandit. Jorah ducked and threw himself to the side away from the elf as far away as his rope would allow.

Quick as a flash, Darian tossed his dagger in the air and caught it by the blade between his thumb and forefinger and took aim. The bandit elf, reeling back from the hawk attack, face bleeding, froze in fear as he saw Darian's dagger spinning towards him, too fast to dodge. The dagger was off slightly as it sliced through the elf's neck and falling to the ground behind him. The elf's scream died in his pierced throat as he grabbed at his throat, in a vain attempt to stop the gushing dark blood pouring out from his neck. Darian swept his sword from the dirt and charged the elf, driving the point straight through the chest. His gasps became quiet as the light went out of his eyes.

Jorah looked around as Darian tossed the bandit to the side and wiped the blade clean on the clothes of the dark elf, sheathing it when he was finished.

"Wh-Who are you?" Darian looked around at the boy's voice, taking deep breaths, trying to control his heartbeat.

"I'm just a man your father contracted to save you," He said, retrieving his dagger and cutting through the rope tied around the boy's foot, "I'm sorry if I scared you, but you're safe now with us."

"Us?" Jorah queried. Darian whistled three quick notes and a beautiful hawk landed on the stump, looking expectantly at Darian. Darian smiled and went to her, sheathing his dagger, digging through his bag and offering her the last piece of rabbit. He extended a finger and stroked her breast as she swallowed it down.

"Her name is Shae; without her, I wouldn't have been able to save you."

"Thank you mister. I thought they were going to kill me," said Jorah, rubbing his ankle where the rope had chafed him. Darian crouched to his level to give him a calming draught to stop the shaking.

Shae screeched loudly and took off, preferring to fly above where she could see everything. She always looked angry as if she was glaring through your soul, but that's just how hawks looked. Darian watched her go, as always loving how she watched his back without ever being told. Turning, he kicked over each of the bandits and searched them, removing purses of coin and other items, including a key to the chest, which had inside a quiver of 30 steel-tipped arrows, a bag of about 400 septims, and a ruby necklace. _I might actually come out ahead on this one._ There was a steel dagger on the Orc, so he gave it to Jorah.

"Here, take this," he said, "Do you know how to use one?" The young boy nodded and took the dagger, handing Darian his bow that he had dropped earlier.

"Thanks, boy. Go on, sit down, you need to give the potion time to work."

"Aren't we going back to Whiterun?" Jorah asked, keen to leave.

Darian nodded, "In a few minutes. I need to put some food in my belly after that fight," he looked around the campsite, "But first..." He walked over to the orc and tried to recover his arrow. It broke in two as he wrenched it out. Huffing, he tossed the pieces aside and dragged the bodies of the bandits to the river, tossing them in unceremoniously one after the other.

At the cooking spit he was able to salvage most of a bowl of horker and potato stew. He hadn't eaten since that morning so it was appreciated. He sat down at the table as Jorah grabbed some of the bread and salmon. They ate in silence until Jorah asked if Darian could teach him how to fight. Darian stared at the young man.

"Perhaps one day in a few years, I'll come back to Whiterun and give you a few lessons. Fighting bandits isn't something most nobles do, why are you interested in that?"

"I don't want to fight bandits, I just don't want to get kidnapped again."

Darian chuckled, "Well you're ten years old now. You should be able to learn how to fire a bow. Ask your father when you get back. Now pack up any food you didn't finish. I don't know if we'll come across anything bigger than a rabbit on the way back."

He gave Shae a whistle command to leave and go hunting as they left the bandit camp. She was well trained and knew all of his usual spots so she could always find him eventually if she lost him in the wild. The two set out on the road to Whiterun, Darian's quiver full of new arrows, and weapons out as the clouds darkened, threatening to storm. This was going to be a long walk back to the city.

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"Thank you so much sir! You are a blessing to us all!" the nobleman gushed as he grasped Darian's hand as his wife cried in relief, holding her son tightly. Darian smiled at the man and received his pay. A thousand septims. Not a bad reward. Nodding at the happy family, he turned and made his way out of the Wind District, ignoring all the looks he received. He was used to it. Being half Nord and half Redguard always made him the target of strange looks and quick gossip. Still, it was a little annoying he mused as he made his way through the rain.

He spent the day looking for work and chopping wood to make more arrows. He wasn't exactly good at it, but he was getting better all the time with the help of Adrianne down at the forge. She always said that he had some real potential in becoming a blacksmith, if he'd only stick around to learn the trade. Darian was really only interested in improving his swords, daggers, and bows. He found actually making armor to be tedious and time consuming. He spent some money on some steel ingots and made about thirty arrows. Thanking Adrianne, he tossed her some coin for her time and headed back up the street, the rain splashing across his face.

Stopping by the apothecary to pick up some ingredients for poison and health potions and the general store to sell some of the armor and jewelry he looted off of the bandits, Darian made his way to The Bannered Mare for a drink and a room as the night fell, the weather still not letting up.

All in all, today was a good day. He completed his rescue and he even came out ahead in coin today. His reputation proceeded him. When he sat down at the tavern, a complete stranger waved his money away and bought him a huge tankard of mead. Ysolda, the new owner of the tavern and childhood friend of Darian, congratulated him by giving him five free nights to sleep at the Mare anytime he wanted, which he gladly took, not wanting to travel back home in the storm raging outside. A day and a half traveling to the city in this weather was plenty.

After he had his fill of mead, song, and conversation, he made his way up to his room. It was a cozy and small room, with a bowl of apples on the table, a small bookcase, a straw bed, and an open bed warmer. He called down to Saadia to bring him some hot coals. He set his bag on the floor and leaned his sword against the end table, in easy reach of the bed.

Darian usually slept in his armor on the road, but since he felt relatively safe, he sat on the bed, taking off all his armor and placing it on the dresser. As he slid into his trousers, he heard a knock at the door and answered it to find Saadia, bringing him his coals. She dumped them into the bed warmer and closed the lid.

"Anything else I can do for you?" She purred, staring a little too long at his bare chest.

"No thanks, Saadia. I'm sure Ysolda has you busy."

"I suppose," she shrugged, turning to leave. Darian watched her go and closed the door, propping the chair from the table to bar the door. It wouldn't exactly stop someone from coming in, but at least the noise would wake him up in an instant. He may feel relaxed enough to take off his armor, but that didn't mean he still wasn't a cautious man.

He yawned and stretched, dousing the candles and getting into the bed, now nice and warm. He usually stayed up for an hour and read or he would polish his sword, but tonight, he was too tired.

As he lay in his rented four poster bed, he pondered on his life and the direction he was heading. While it did feel good to help those who needed it, he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. A real purpose, a cause he could believe in. He had tried joining The Companions when he had lived on the streets of Whiterun, but after learning they were werewolves, he couldn't stay. He knew they meant well but he just couldn't live that lifestyle, personally. He remained good friends with Farkas and Aela. The Thieves Guild was always an option, he supposed, but he wanted to try going through life honestly for as long as he could. And for good reason.

Darian tried his best to not enjoy killing, but this was something he couldn't help. Every time his arrow pierced a heart, or his sword separated an enemy's head from its body, he felt the rush of adrenaline; the thrill of being alive and killing a man who's trying to kill you. He may not be the best fighter around or even the best archer, but he'd survived this long. There was the fear he struggled with daily, though. What if he became like those who he had killed today?

He shuddered at the very thought. He'd like to think that he was a good man, like this town thought him to be today, but his inner demons urged him to act out. There were a couple times out in the wild where he killed someone just because they were extremely rude to him and pushed him too far... Both times he ran from the scene and still had yet to face what he had done. Most of the time he felt shame, but it was those few times where he felt justified about those killings that truly scared part of him. He always wanted to be the good guy, but in his heart, he wasn't sure.

He supposed it was the great challenge of life, to find meaning and purpose. He supposed he wanted to get married one day and have a family, but all his relationships in the past had failed. Everything he had done in the past had failed. There was a moment for a while he really thought the Companions was the life for him, but they kicked him out, not only for his refusal to take the blood of the wolf, but for his somewhat lacking sword and bow skills; skills he had spent the last few months honing to a competent level. They had told him it may be difficult to convince the Harbinger to take him back, but it was possible. He ignored the offer.

It was just as well, though. He was only in his early twenties and had a lifetime ahead to figure himself out. Listening to the pattering of the rain against the windows and the muffled noises of the tavern below, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. This day had gone well. Hopefully he'd get lucky and avoid nightmares tonight.

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 **Thanks for reading! I really appreciate any reviews you might want to leave. I'm starting this story out a little slow to give some character to Darian, so if you're waiting for Serana, she won't show up for few more chapters, I promise! I need just a little more backstory and set up. My next chapter is going to be really soon, probably sometime this week. So put this story on alert, leave a review, and stay tuned!**

 **\- The Fit Nerd**


	2. Things to Improve

"Darian! It's morning! Time to get up!" Saadia's voice was muffled through the thick door and drowned out a bit by her pounding fist. Darian awoke at once, alert and halfway reaching for his sword. Sunlight streamed into his room from the window and pooled onto the floor in a bright yellow circle. It seemed he slept through the storm. The knocking at the door came again.

"Come on, Darian, you're holding me up!"

Darian sat up and swung his feet onto the cold floor, clearing his throat. Hearing the sound, Saadia pushed the door open, catching the chair with her foot before it hit the ground, as if she'd been expecting it. She straightened the chair upright and slid it out of the way so she could open the door all the way. Under her arm she held new sheets for the bed and in her same hand dangled a pouch.

She glared at Darian.

"Honestly Darian, every time with the damn chair. No one here is going to jump you and kill you in your sleep." She huffed, then her voice turning silky in her next breath as she gazed him with a glint in her eye, "Well, at least not kill you…"

Darian rolled his eyes and stood up from the bed and offered her the sheets he had slept in. She took them and tossed them on the floor near the door. Darian took a swig of water from a tankard on the end table and dropped to the ground, immediately beginning his morning routine of push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, and squats. He ignored Saadia's obvious glances as she made the bed, refilled his tankard of water, lit the candles, put soap in his tub, and cleaned the table.

It was very clear to him that she appreciated his built frame, but she reminded him too much of his sister to ever return her affections. Not that if she looked different he'd be attracted to her anyway, he thought to himself; she was merely interested in sharing his bed, not who he truly was. What was more is she knew he wasn't interested, he had told her so rather firmly, but not unkindly, the last time he stayed at the Mare. But apparently she had seen it as a challenge, he concluded, as she swung her hips seductively and winked picking up his old sheets and leaving the room. No matter, he would be gone soon and she could harass some other patron.

Darian finished his workout an hour later, wiping his brow with a rag and washing his face. Tossing it back on the dresser he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The crescent shaped bruise on the side of his face from that Nord's boot was nearly gone, only a small purple black spot remained where it had once been a bit of an eyesore. He touched it and felt no pain, the injury healing rapidly due to his Redguard and Nord blood in just two days. It had been swollen for a few hours on the way to Whiterun, but by the time they had made it back to the city, it was really only noticeable if you knew what you were looking for.

Darian never thought much of his looks; to be honest, he kind of hated the attention he got because of them. He always thought good looks made some men full of themselves. In Skyrim, being full of yourself was a quick and easy way to also being full of swords and arrows. He quickly had been branded the 'pretty boy' by the Companions as a teen and still suffered the nickname into adulthood.

Darian took mostly after his Nord father, in his build. He was slightly above average height but broad shouldered and chested and muscular arms. His skin was light brown, a strange sight for most of Tamriel, for he and his sister were the only ones he knew of with Nord and Redguard parents. His face was unblemished aside from the rapidly healing bruise; Darian figured it'd probably be gone by the time he got home to Riften.

He had greenish brown eyes like his sister, a wide nose, thick eyebrows, and a strong jaw covered in stubble. He did his best to keep himself fit and healthy. He ran a hand through his short curly hair that had grown out a bit since the last time he had looked in the mirror. Giving his cheeks a rub, he frowned the growth of hair prickling his fingers. Definitely had to go.

Sighing, he found a blade and went to work in front of the mirror. He gave himself a haircut that left his hair extremely short, then he went to shaving his cheeks and his upper lip, leaving the shadow on his chin. Setting the blade down, he picked up a clean rag and washed his face with it. Good. Now he looked more presentable and professional. Nothing killed a potential job like an unsavory appearance.

Nearly an hour later found Darian leaving the Mare fed, washed, and dressed, with his sword at his waist and aging bow on his back, nodding a farewell to Ysolda, who smiled and waved. Darian stepped out onto the streets of Whiterun, blinking into the sunlight.

There was no sign of the storm the previous night in the sky, but the ground was covered in puddles and knocked over debris. The town center around the well was empty aside from a guard walking around the town center picking up crates and barrels and putting them back into place. Darian stopped to help clean up the area, tripping over birds as he carried crates in both hands. The birds of the city hopped throughout the street, snatching up the fat worms wriggling in the dirt.

Within minutes, the center was back to normal; the guard nodded her thanks and headed off towards the Cloud District, just as shops were opening and the stands were manned.

Darian pulled out his bag to check his supplies. He had the money he made on his last quest, an extra steel dagger that he needed to get sharpened soon when he found some steel, some bandages, some alchemy ingredients, a few rolled up fox hides, and his camp gear. What he really wanted was to spend some of his money on a new sword or some new armor but he had already promised himself that the money would go to his family. His parents lived in a cabin just outside of Riften while his sister Diana lived with him in his house in the city. She worked in the ebony mines north of Riften, where he knew she wasn't too happy.

He was fresh out of food, he noticed as he rifled through his bag. Feeding Jorah and himself for two days had emptied his rations. They weren't able to bring down any deer or elk on the way back so they survived off a single rabbit that Jorah had caught, and the few carrots and bread Darian had had in his bag. Darian turned and headed towards the stands. The meat stand smelled a bit foul so he skipped past the shady looking elf. Carlotta, who owned a fruit and vegetables stand, smiled at him as he approached her.

"Hello Darian, long time," She smiled as she set up a sign marking the leeks down ten percent, "How goes it?"

"Fine. Just came back to Whiterun for the night, so I'm going to need some food to last me until I make it back to the Rift."

"Oh! I heard how you saved little Jorah yesterday. To be honest, I had been thinking that Mila was just going to have to play with Lars or Braith from now on." She grinned, shaking her hair out of her face, "Those bandits had quite a reputation but everyone's said that you took them down all by yourself! You sure have changed, Darian… You're not that little kid the guards would have to chase up and down the Wind district anymore?"

He blinked, she always talked so much.

"Yeah… Who's been talking?" Why did everyone have to remind him how foolish and childish he had been back then? He had been a boy when he lived in Whiterun, and had acted like one. He had spent the entire last year trying to be taken seriously. The bounties he took spread his name a little, but he still was a bit of a green adventurer. Darian placed some coin on the stand and grabbed two heads of cabbage and a handful of leeks placing them in his bag.

Carlotta scoffed, taking the coin, "Ysolda, of course, who else?"

"What do you mean?" Ysolda did not seem like the gossiping type, unlike Carlotta, who was notorious for having her nose in everyone's business, back when they were kids. It seemed motherhood hadn't changed her that much.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, you must know Ysolda's always been soft on you for years."

"What? We're talking about the same Ysolda here?"

"Wow, for such a bright guy, you can be really dense. Don't you remember when we were kids, she'd always get weird around you?"

This was news to Darian. "I remember, but I wasn't really focused on girls back then, you know."

"Hm… yeah I guess not," she began to laugh, "No you were always challenging people to battle, Braveheart. Well, now you know. I swear, she's always talking about you and the things you've been up to. I hear she asks a lot of the travelers, y'know, those adventuring types that stay at the Bannered Mare if they heard of any of your recent exploits. She's pretty, that one. Mikael tries to woo her but she doesn't much care for scrawny bards. Divines knows no one can stand him," Carlotta chuckled.

"No, I suppose not... Anyway, be seeing you Carlotta."

Carlotta smiled, her eyes glinting at sharing more juicy city gossip. Darian walked away, slinging his bag and shaking his head. That woman loved hearing the sound of her own voice. Darian hoisted his bag to a better position on his back and positioned his bow for better access as he left the town center and headed towards Jorrvaskr for some practice with his old friends.

The moment he stepped into the Companions main hall he was accosted with noise and ruckus. The place was a mess; cups and plates and chairs thrown haphazardly around the floor. It seemed nearly every time Darian visited, a fight was breaking out or just finishing. Today it was two young Companions in some sort of quarrel over a local woman. Jorrvaskr's inhabitants were all focused o the altercation, instigating and throwing out fighting advice. No one turned to see Darian enter aside from one young Breton female he didn't know winked at him over her ale.

"As I love and breathe, is that Darian?" Darian turned to the right to see Farkas emerging from the corner, halfway through a slab of horker.

Darian grinned as the werewolf grasped his forearm, taking a chomp out of the meat and tossing it to the nearest plate.

"How've you been, Farkas?"

Farkas yawned, "Oh, you know, I'm just bored as usual when there aren't any missions to go on or heads to bash in. People seem to be handling their problems themselves the last few weeks or go seek cheaper swords. My brother and I have been cooped up here, without anyone to fight. I've already gone through most of the lot here so they're no fun anymore." He waved a large hand around the Hall; the two rowing in the Hall had apparently reached their breaking point, as one was on top of the other, rainining punches down on his shield-brother.

Darian got the hint, a small smile playing on his face.

"Well, perhaps I can change that? When's the last time you and I sparred?" As expected, Farkas nearly burst with excitement. Darian wouldn't have been surprised if he had kissed him.

"You ready for a real fight, pretty boy? Come face an actual warrior, not some shitty bandits with stolen steel!" He boasted as he led Darian to the doors. He stopped before going through, calling out to the room. "Tournament outside! Let's go Companions!" There was a uproar as seats were kicked back and everyone left the two fighting Companions to their romance squabbles.

Darian grinned, setting his bag, sword, bow, and quiver down on the table outside, and grabbing one of the practice swords, sharp enough to draw some light blood, but too dull to truly hurt someone. Other Companions trickled outside to watch, some grabbing swords of their own, eager for another shot to defeat the skilled fighters. A tournament board was set up and lots were drawn. Farkas and Vilkas came over to check out Darian's number.

"Good, you're far away from us. Gives you time to warm up. If you make it through your first two fights, you'll face Faraks," the older werewolf growled, "Then if you beat him, you'll likely face me in the final." Darian forced a challenging smile. Vilkas was a good man, but Darian liked his brother a lot more. Vilkas can be more engaging to discuss things with, but with Farkas, you're more likely to be laughing and having a good time.

"We'll see, I suppose." He chuckled. The first round of fights went without issue; Darian faced off against that Torvar, a Nord whom Darian was only too happy to introduce to the ground. When he had been a Companion and was quickly rising through the ranks, Torvar was the type of guy who would always have something negative to say in spite and jealousy. His next opponent Athis, gave him some trouble, but in the end, he was victorious. As the third round came up he found himself face to face with Farkas.

"Come, my old friend," Farkas taunted, "I see you've gotten a lot better with a blade. But let's see how you do against a real fighter!"

Darian charged Farkas, trying for a shot at his right arm, which Farkas easily parried. The werewolf swept at Darian's ankles forcing the adventurer to trip and roll with the momentum, bending his knees and bringing himself back on his feet in a crouched position. But Farkas was already there, raining steel down on Darian's sword. As he pulled back for another strike, Darian leapt to the side and went for a high swing, ringing Farks' helm. Instead of falling down, the huge werewolf roared and grabbed Darian by the neck and twisted, pulling him close, then quite literally tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of cabbage.

Darian slammed into the ground, barely able to keep his sword in his hand. He had expected the brute to try and use his unnatural strength at some point, so he saw the finishing stab move coming and blocked it, bringing his knee up to help brace the flat end of his sword. Farkas snarled and pushed, trying to put more weight on top of Darian's wrists. Thinking quickly, Darian stopped meeting his push, and gave the Companion what he wanted, surprising him slightly. In that same second, he kicked out his other foot and hooked it around Farkas' foot and then leaned his arm to one side, rolling the werewolf onto the ground, and him on top.

Farkas' surprise at the reversal of their position was echoed by standers-by. Many of whom cheered Darian on, likely wanting to see the one who beat them regularly lose. Darian caught Farkas' sword hand and pinned it to the ground, trying to hold him there to catch his breath.

But Farkas had other plans. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed for Darian's hair, scraping his head. _Nice try, thank the gods I already cut it._

When that failed, he bucked his hips upward, sending Darian further forward, forcing him to catch himself before his face met the ground. Unfortunately that meant Darian had to slam his knuckles into the hard ground in order to keep control of his weapon. Farkas used that instant of distraction to wrench his other hand free from Darian's grip, and shove the adventurer off of him, using his wolf strength.

Darian went flying to the far side of the circle of watching Companions from where they were just on the ground, once again getting the wind knocked out of him. He struggled to try to get up, coughing, but before he could get up from his knees, cold steel was at the back of his neck. _Damn..._

"I yield. Damn it, Farkas," he wheezed, "How come I can never beat you?"

Farkas let out a laugh, bending down to help Darian to his feet. "You are a damn good fighter, pretty boy. But you let people who are much stronger than you get too close. You're better than most at a sword fighting distance, but when it comes to hand to hand, you need more practice."

Darian spit out a bit of blood. He hadn't noticed that he must have bit his lip sometime in the fight. The two fighters made their way out of the pit as Altor, a Nord who joined the same day Darian had, and a newer Companion, an orc male named Urzogo headed in, game faces on.

Farkas clapped his shoulder, sending pain rippling through Darian's upper body.

"It's alright, shield-brother. You'll get there. You have a natural instinct for fighting, I've never seen one improve as fast as you. When you first met us, you were nothing more than a wanna be pretty boy brat with next to no skill. Your first day!" He started to laugh.

Darian smiled sheepishly at the memory. He had been a whelp boy who had hardly ever held a real sword, marching up to Kodlak and challenging him to a duel. It had been quite a humbling experience. Farkas walked away, still laughing.

Urzogo just barely won his fight but that meant next round he'd have to fight Vilkas, who had dominated his own third round fight against a young but huge Nord named Aiden. That man had slightly reminded Darian of a younger version of one of his uncles. He might as well be related; Darian's father, Deor, was the second eldest in a big family, spread out all over northern Tamriel. Darian sat through the fourth round to watch Farkas face off against Aela, who just barely lost. She gave as good as she got, especially in her first three fights against men twice her size; but Farkas, as always, was just too much. She stepped off the pit grumbling and heading over to Darian to lean against the wall.

"Hey, Darian," She never called him 'pretty boy', either because she didn't want to sent any mixed messages, or she knew how it had irked him so much. Either way, he was grateful for it.

"Aela, it's nice to see you after so long. You did incredible."

She scoffed.

"Not incredible enough; I still can't beat the wonder twins over there."

"Hey, you lasted longer than I did. In the match-ups and against Farkas." She rolled her eyes as Vilkas roared, kicking one of the two swords out of Urzogo's hand. The Orismer had apparently thought dual-wielding was going to make a difference. He was wrong.

"Only because I have about twenty-five years experience in fighting over you. I mean, that's not all when it comes to fighting, I'm sure, under certain circumstances you could defeat me or even Farkas. But experience is definitely a factor in these tournaments," She sighed, moving to sit next to Darian.

"Farkas and his brother have been doing this longer than I," she admitted, "Only Skjor could probably take one of them, but not both at the same ti-Oh Nine hells, look out!"

They ducked as Urzogo came barreling through the air out of the pit toward them, missing them by mere feet and crumpling on the ground. Two of the younger Companion prospects rushed over to drag the Orc back to the side for a healing potion. Everyone clapped as Vilkas himself administered the potion. That was one of the many good things about the Companions: they always have each other's back.

Darian wished for a loyal friend to make the traveling adventurer life more enjoyable on days nothing was going on. It wasn't until Farkas and Vilkas were heading back into the circle before Darian registered what Aela had said.

"Wait what? Twenty- How old- I don't get it." Darian stammered, looking up at her. Aela grinned, prominent canines glinting slightly.

"We have the blood of the wolf, Darian the Braveheart. It keeps us young so we can fight longer."

Darian narrowed his eyes, "And you're... how old?"

Aela huffed, keeping her arms folded and eyes on Farkas giving his brother a massive kick to the leg. "Well that's something you never ask a lady, Darian..."

Darian stared at her for a second before the grin broke through. Aela lasted a moment longer before she too was giggling. They both turned back to the fight.

Vilkas had recovered from the leg strike and darted around his younger twin, obviously trying to overwhelm him with strikes from all angles, yet Farkas was doing his best to keep up. Their rippling strength was palpable. He briefly wondered if Farkas had held back in their fight. _Probably..._

Darian couldn't believe he didn't know about the extended lifespan of werewolves; combined with their enhanced strength, they truly were fighting marvels. The offer to become a child of the moon would have been even more tempting than it was when it was given to him had he known more. But he already struggled daily to fight the inner demons in himself, he didn't need to add a violent wolf instinct to the mix.

 _CRACK!_ Farkas' blade cracked in two as he tried to block a downward strike on his head, still managing to slant it off to the left. He let out a roar and charged Vilkas, shoulder first, knocking his twin to the ground. He switched up his stance, flipping the hilt of his broken sword as if he had a slightly long dagger already ready and met at Vilkas' upward charge from the ground. Darian wasn't the only one amazed at Farkas' adaptability. It was as if he had barely registered that his sword was unserviceable.

 _I should definitely remember this..._ Darian tried to recompose his face.

"So Vilkas and Farkas..."

"...Have been fighting since your parents were little running around Whiterun Hold. If I remember correctly, it was Eorlund who fashioned their wedding bands after I introduced them."

"Wait, Eorlund's a werewolf too?"

"Oh for the love of Hircine," Aela huffed, ruining it with a smile. "No, he's just old. Hey, come on, let's go see how your bow skills have come while you've been gone."

"Well, wait, I wanted to see who wins this one," Darian said as he turned back to the fight. But as soon as he did, Vilkas reverse flipped his brother to the ground, knocking his half a sword loose and holding his twin at throat point. The crowd of Companions cheered as he helped Farkas to his feet and embraced. Aela narrowed her eyes.

"Speed can beat power if you have experience with it. I think that makes Vilkas slightly more dangerous than Farkas, even if he's not quite as strong. Still, if only Skjor would take part in these contests..."

"Is he really that amazing?" Darian got to his feet, gathering up his bag and bow. "You said something earlier about him. I've never seen him fight before. He's usually brooding by himself."

Aela let out a laugh like a bark. "Kid, you have no idea. If he fought today, there's no question who would be victorious. He's like... an artist. Wait, is that yours?" She pointed at the Imperial bow in his hand.

Darian frowned. This old bow had saved his life more than once, and he didn't like how people always had to have a go at it.

"Surely you make more than us; why haven't you upgraded your gear or make a new one? Could have sworn you had some talent at a forge."

"I just... I haven't got around to it, okay? Anyway let's go."

Aela grinned, pulling her own bow from her back and headed toward the archery range. There were only three targets and one stand, built for one archer. The targets were all placed at waist height, the furthest being forty yards away from the stand. Aela jumped up to sit on top of the stand post, looking at Darian expectantly. He stepped up, picking up a quiver waiting. _Ten arrows, okay. I got this..._

Darian notched his first arrow and let it fly, hitting the second target on the furthest circle from the bullseye. He closed his eyes, trying to steady the frustration.

"It's alright, Braveheart. Try it again." Aela's legs absently kicked the air near his shoulder. But by the end of his quiver, he had only hit a red bullseye once, and that was on the closest one. He missed the furthest target entirely twice.

Aela dropped down to take a quiver and her position as the archer. Her expert skill quickly put Darian to shame. She hit every single target in the first two circles from the center, four of which were dead center.

Darian clenched his jaw. Today was just not his day. "Good job Aela. I wish I had your skill."

Aela was not one to be gentle when evaluating performance.

"I see that your skill with a sword has improved immensely but you remain as green with a bow as you ever were."

Darian shrugged. "I guess I need a little more practice."

"Practice with a master, you mean," Aela's face serious. "You're a quick learner, Darian. Remember how you were when you first came to us? If you improve with your bow like you did with the blade, you'd be far better than me by the end of the year."

Darian shot her a look, "A master, huh? And who would that be? You?"

Aela let out another laugh like a bark, "No, not me... I wish I were that good. No, who you need is Angi. She's the master archer living somewhere south of Falkreath. I once heard said she can shoot the eye from a hawk from two hundred feet away."

Darian raised his eyebrows at that. _Let's hope that's not true._

"Hm. She expensive?"

It was Aela's turn to raise her eyebrows, "You serious? I said she's THE master, Darian. Bring lots of gold."

Darian laughed at that, "Come on. Let's get inside before Vilkas gets too big a head in there."

The Companion hall was again loud and rowdy. Aela slunk away to go grab herself some food while Darian sat with some of the new Companions he hadn't met yet. Again and again they pestered him for details on recent adventures, toasting to his good health. Even though he had left the Companions, Darian was welcome at Jorrvaskr like family; highly respected for his adventuring spirit. He drank with them for a while longer before standing up and saying his goodbyes. Vilkas let him have new oils and some metals for weapon maintenance as a thanks for stopping by, along with an offer to join their ranks once more. Darian politely refused and promised he'd be back to challenge them again one day. He packed his bag more securely as he headed out past the great gildergreen he had helped restore on one of his first quests, lost in thought.

While his mission to save Jorah was successful, he couldn't help but dwell on what Aela had said. He had been sloppy in his aim against that elf bandit and Jorah almost died because of it. He had been sloppy in his aim today at the range. He had missed the bullseye nearly every time, hitting various parts of the target with no real grouping. He was an average shot, and everyone knew it. He was going to have to improve fast if he wanted to be the best warrior he could be.

Darian made his way to the Whiterun gates and down to the stables and carriages. _Hopefully she won't be too expensive,_ he thought as he tossed some coin at the sleeping carriage driver and jumped into the seat in the back. He still needed to save some money for his family. He had been out all this time earning money so that the next time he was in Riften he could give the rest to his parents and sister.

The driver coughed and rubbed his eyes, looking around at Darian in his carriage and then down at the small sack of septims in his lap.

"Where ya headed?" he grunted, grasping the reins and twisting again to look at his passenger.

"You can just head to Falkreath, thanks." Darian said, pulling out his dagger and one of his new tools to sharpen it on.

"Aye," said the driver, yipping the horse and started on a course to the southernmost hold. The sun moved slowly across the sky as Darian sharpened his dagger and restrung his bow. He tried chatting with the driver for about ten minutes but the Nord was not exactly a conversationalist, making Darian wonder about the man's life choices.

With little else to do, he sat back and closed his eyes, trying to see if he could catch a quick nap before they got to Falkreath and searched for information on how to find this Angi when he sensed a shadow pass over him. He sat up, reaching for his bow before he realized it was only Shae, finally catching up to him.

He raised his left arm and whistled her to him, her talons dug into the special marks he had made on his armor so she could perch comfortably and he didn't have to bandage his forearm every time she landed on it. He had also made an extra piece of armor that sat on his left shoulder with the same marks for Shae to land on, but he preferred to call her to his arm. She cocked her head to the side as she took in his slightly damaged face and let out a short _caw_. The carriage driver jumped and looked back, but Darian ignored him.

"Hey there, pretty lady," Darian reached out with his right hand and stroked her breast with a bent finger. Shae lowered her body and bowed her head slightly to the right in a response, extending her wings slightly, and giving him a stern look with her amber eye. To someone who didn't know her, this might have been a bit intimidating, but that was how she showed affection to Darian and his sister.

They had found her as a baby about three years ago when exploring out in the wilderness while she was being stalked by a young wolf. Diana and Darian chased the wolf away and nursed the little hatchling back to health, but couldn't find her nest to put her back in so they kept her. Darian had trained her to hunt with him when she had become efficient at flying. He was able to flush out small game and she would attack from the sky at the command of a whistle. She became very good very fast, and was often treated with slices of the prize. Diana had a good relationship with the hawk as well but Shae was rather attached to Darian. They were never apart for very long.

"I can see you've been eating well," he commented noticing how full she was, "Lucky you, we're headed to the mountains, there should be plenty for you to eat." He pointed to the mountains with his right hand and she let out a _cree_ of appreciation. Shae gave his finger a light nip of affection and hopped off his arm, taking to the air, flying towards Falkreath Hold. Darian settled back and watched her go. He knew exactly where she was headed: her favorite perch in that area. He'd bet anything he'd find her in a large tree overlooking the area Darian usually camped out in the Falkreath Hold.

"Never knew tha' a person could actually train those birds," the driver grunted.

Darian smiled.

"Wasn't easy, believe that. How much longer do we have?" Darian glanced at the surroundings, they had to be getting close; Riverwood was a ways behind them.

"No more'n an hour, probably less," The driver sniffed, turning back to the horse and smacking the reins and the horse picked up his gait. Darian nodded and pulled out his sword and placed it on his lap to clean and polish, just to have something to do while he waited. By the sun, he guessed it was around seven or so. It would be getting dark by the time he made it to the city. He might as well try and keep himself busy until then.

With a lurch, the carriage came to a stop a short walk from the gate of the city of Falkreath and the driver announced that they had arrived. Darian gathered his things and thanked the driver as he jumped down from the back and the carriage pulled away. His legs and back were sore from the uncomfortable seat and his bones cricked as he stretched and shook the feeling back into them. Putting his bow on his back again, and loosening his sword in his scabbard tied to his left side, he made his way into the town. He still had no idea of the general direction of Angi's camp, best to find someone in the city who would know where she lived.

Trouble was, there was no one in sight. He could hear no sounds of the city inhabitants going about their business. It was still early evening yet no dogs, cats, goats, or chickens wandering the streets as usual. Darian didn't normally come to Falkreath, but when he did, there was always something going on. Even the wind was dead.

Darian placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he made forward, heel to toe and controlled his breathing. Something was definitely not right. The night was so quiet, Darian could hear his heart beating abnormally fast, just like it did before a fight. He spotted something ahead that made his mouth go dry.

Somebody was lying face down on the ground in front of Dead Man's Drink, the local inn. A man by the look of it. He rushed toward him and crouched, turning him over to see the face of Bolund, one of the Nord brothers who lived and ran the general store in town. Darian was good friends with Bolund's brother, Solaf.

Darian put two fingers to the Nord's neck but couldn't find a pulse. There was a sword nearby on the ground, Bolund's. But the old iron blade was broken clean in two and there was no sign of blood anywhere on it. There was no blood on Bolund either that Darian could spot. No stab wounds or arrows or even arrow holes. He was just… dead. His face was pale as if he had no blood left in his body and expression was one of anger and terror.

Darian searched his body, but found nothing out of the ordinary aside from the fact that he was ice cold yet the hilt on his sword was still warm. It was if he'd be dead for days but also been alive in the last half hour. This whole situation was disconcerting.

Darian looked around but he still could see no one. He looked back down at Bolund. He never liked the miller much with his deep dislike for strangers and non-Nords, but still, he felt for the man for the manner of his perplexing death and his no doubt grieving brother. Darian reached down to shut the Nord's blank eyes, hoping that he found peace in Sovngarde. There was nothing anyone could do for him.

Darian drew his sword and crept through the bushes along the wall of the inn, to stay out of direct sight of anyone who might be watching.

For a city of death, it was certainly living up to its name today. Darian moved from building to building, approaching the Jarl's longhouse. Whatever was going on, he was sure to find someone either there or at the guardhouse, and hopefully figure out what was going on.

The back of his neck prickled and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He was almost to the door of the longhouse when a scream ripped through the silence.

"No please! Wai-"

Darian jumped and held still. _Hang on a second, I think I know that voice…_

The scream seemed to have come from his right, somewhere behind the blacksmith's . He was sure he knew it... He started heading towards it when he heard a deep growl chilling his very bones from behind him. _Please, hang on,_ he thought as he gripped his sword tightly.

Murderous anger welled up in him as his heart began beating loudly and his breathing became loud and pronounced. There began a slight ringing in his ears and spots dotted his vision. A low growl of his own began in his throat. Whatever was behind him, he didn't care, it had made it's mistake; He knew exactly who had screamed, although he didn't know or care why she was here in Falkreath. There was just no way he was going to let his sister die today.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! This chapter took me a while to write because I lost all my work the first time I wrote it and I'm also in the process of writing other things! But it's all good, I feel like this version is even better and I cant wait to hear what you think of it! So give me a review, let me know what you think put this story on your alerts and give it a favorite! I hope to get the next chapter out soon!**

 **Notes: I know official TES lore states that Vilkas and Farkas and the other werewolves aren't as old as I've said they are. That's just me taking my liberty to make them more interesting in my opinion. I think of them in my story like Wolverine and Sabretooth's years of war and fighting together.**

 **\- The Fit Nerd**


	3. Mythic Encounter

_"Stop. You don't have to go there, Darian," Kodlak reached out, gripping the lad's wrist before he brought it down on the thug._

 _"He's unarmed. There's no honor in striking down a defeated foe needlessly." Darian's sword arm shook slightly as his breathing slowed. The man cowering on the ground before him had been running a corrupt operation extorting money and supplies from local family owned farms in the Rift in exchange for "protection". The Companions had been contracted to take care of them, Darian only too eager to do his part to help protect his family's new farm in the area. The lad was breathing heavily in anger as he half tried to get out of the old man's grip._

 _"He... he needs to die. He was going to target my family's-" Kodiak interrupted him with a gesture to Athor, who ran forward to put the bandit leader and the other two survivors in chains._

 _The old man let him go. "That is not for us to decide. We will deliver these men to the proper authorities and head home. Put away your sword, boy."_

 _Darian frowned. He may be young but he was no longer the whelp, he had just bested a man years his senior and who had thirty pounds on him in single combat. He sheathed his sword and turned to walk away, stopping when Kodlak's hand caught his shoulder. The Harbinger's voice was low, and concerned._

 _"There's something about you, Darian. Something buried deep within you. You have the instinct of a master but your temper gets out of control," Kodlak's dark eyes bored into Darian's. "One day, I feel you might achieve a power greater than any of us, but to what end you will use it, I cannot say. I cannot pretend it does not worry me."_

 _Darian shrugged off the old man's hand, glaring at the bandit leader being dragged away. "It's not me you'll have to worry about."_

 _..._

Darian closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the tunnel vision, gripping his sword tighter and setting his feet in the dirt. It was like this before every fight; the world grew as menacing and ugly as he always tried to keep under control.

Darian opened his eyes on his exhale and began stepping forward as if he heard nothing behind him, pretending to stare at the blacksmith's house, attempting to identify the foul smell creeping up. It was a gamey and wild stench. His years of hunting had honed his trust in his senses. Darian cocked his head. Yes, there it was. It was so quiet in the town that Darian could hear the thing behind him was trying to be stealthy.

It was easy to do this as long as one knew what to listen for. A shifting of dirt here, the nearly silent scrape of clothing or flesh against a wall there, or the even slight crick of a joint. Darian had learned it all while hunting and practicing with his sister.

Diana was much better at it than Darian was, but he still had a good grasp. From the sound of the footsteps, the growl, and the smell, it had to be some sort of animal. As lacking as he may be in the area of archery, he was an expert at tracking. It had taken Darian less than five seconds to reach his conclusion.

When he heard the growl come from behind him again, he whipped around, raising his sword up and ready to face the beast, laying his eyes on the strangest dog he had ever seen.

The creature was much bigger than any dog that Darian knew of had reason to be; its vascular muscles bulging as it took each menacing step. Its black skin was hairless and looked almost as if it were rotting, with sunken places, as if the flesh had already decayed away underneath. The muzzle was one such place, with nothing but a disgusting open nasal cavity. The rest of its body was covered in marks that looked like they could be from both whips, blades, and claws. There was a particularly large gnash from the beast's forehead to the bottom of its jaw. Sticky saliva dripped from its mouth full of razor sharp canines and pooled on the ground in front of the creatures massive paws equipped with claws sharpened to a point. Its charcoal collar looked heavy and made of iron. But the most disturbing thing about the dog was its deep glowing red eyes glaring into his own. Even from this distance, he could see that mercy had been beaten out of this animal. This dog was built and bred to kill, there was no doubt in Darian's mind.

 _Fine then_ , thought Darian, _I guess you'll be the first._ Darian gestured with his sword, beckoning the beast to him. He was confident that his sister could handle herself for the next minute or so, but even still, he wanted to hurry to her.

The dog snarled, snapping Darian's attention, and bounded forward the last few meters to be in range for a leap towards Darian's throat. The canine was faster than Darian had expected and it was all he could do to angle his sword in the way of the beast's leap as he sidestepped. The muscular dog blurred past him, taking the hit from the sharpened sword as if it were nothing more than a mild sting, landing on its front paws and turning almost unbelievably fast; strange, black blood seeped from the wound.

The dog seemed to know how to fight a man armed with a sword, because it was staying so close that Darian realized he wouldn't be able to make a full swing. He needed his dagger, but it was on his waist and the beast was already coming toward him. It leapt on his chest, sending the both of them to the ground, jaws closing around Darian's sword hand, sending a chill up his arm.

 _Damn magic,_ Darian grunted, _this thing has that frost bite shit._ How annoying. Darian brought his other arm up against the dog's shoulder to keep those teeth from ripping out his jugular. Realizing he was going to need both his hands he let his sword tumble from his bleeding hand and rammed his fingers into the beast's right eye. The dog roared and reared back swiping Darian's left shoulder causing him to yell out in pain.

Darian brought his knees to the beast's underbelly and kicked it over his head and off of him, quickly rolling over to his stomach, drawing his dagger as he got to one knee. The dog was still reeling from the jab to the eye. This was his chance, but with this shoulder, he wasn't sure he could get an accurate killing throw on a moving target. He only had the one dagger.

Before he could make his decision however, a man leapt from the top of the longhouse and onto the dog, who began to buck wildly.

Darian's knees cricked as he got to his feet and darted forward and to the side out of the way as the man was launched backward. Darian leapt the instant he was in range, driving the point of his dagger into the back of the dog's skull, killing it instantly as the both of them tumbled to the ground once again.

Darian wrenched his dagger out of the dog's corpse and kicked it off his leg so that he could stand.

"Nice one," came the gruff voice of the man who had just saved Darian. Darian recognized the voice and looked around to see his old friend Solaf get to his feet and brush himself off. "Hey Darian, fancy meeting you he- Hey!" He took a step back as Darian rushed past him roughly, scooping up his sword. He guessed that it had been about two minutes since he first heard his sister's scream. _Please don't let me be too late…._

"No time, with me!" Darian grunted, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and hand. Hopefully Solaf wouldn't look back down the street just yet to see his brother's body. Darian wasn't sure what to expect behind the house, but he wouldn't say no to backup, especially from a former soldier. Bolund was already dead, Diana might still be alive.

Thankfully, Solaf took the hint and drew his sword, falling in behind Darian as the latter raced toward where the screams had come from. _Ignore the pain. These wounds aren't deep, I need to get to Diana…_

As much as he wanted to behead anything that threatened his family, experience made him hesitate before the last corner. He took half a second to readjust his grip and take a quick glance to make sure that there wasn't someone just on the other side waiting to grab him the instant he revealed himself. He had seen someone pay the price for such carelessness once, and had no such desire to forget that lesson. In under a second, he steeled himself and burst around the corner, Solaf at his heels.

Darian recognized his sister's unconscious form lying face down in the dirt as a woman in rags crouching over her looked up. The woman had skin as pale as the snow and golden/red eyes full of malice. Those haunting eyes would have chilled Darian to the bone if not for the dagger the pale woman had mere inches away from Diana's neck.

Darian roared and charged the woman who snarled and leapt aside with inhuman speed, her filthy white hair tickling Darian as he barreled past her. Solaf was able to follow her movements better than Darian had, tried for a swing at the woman. In a flash, she dodged again with her incredible speed out of the way of the blade, and placing a hand on the Nord's wide chest, lifted him up into the air and casually threw him over the fence behind her to the ground using his momentum. _What the hell?_ Darian thought. Solaf was a few inches bigger than Darian and heavier too. _She did that like it was nothing!_

Solaf's blade had flung from his grasp and lodged itself into one of the nearby stumps where the citizens of Falkreath had begun cutting down the surrounding forest for lumber. The shopkeeper himself rolled to a stop and stayed there, groaning. _You're alright, old boy…_

Darian was already moving when he saw his friend go down. The pale woman was at the fence preparing to climb over when Darian realized what she was going to do.

With some admirable speed himself, Darian one-arm vaulted the fence and onto a stump just as the pale woman crouched and leapt. Hoping that his timing was right, Darian used the stump to launch himself forward feet first.

With a crack, he was rewarded with his boots connecting to the side of the pale woman's head as they both fell towards the ground. Darian twisted his sword so he wouldn't land on the blade just before his shoulder met the hard dirt; the impact jolted his teeth and made his head spin.

Doing his best to ignore the aches he now felt all over, he got to his feet and readied himself, in between the pale woman and Solaf and Diana. _What the hell is this woman? She tossed Solaf like he was a child's doll._

Darian had never faced something like this before. This woman was incredibly strong for her size. Strong enough to easily toss a Nord bigger than Darian some five yards with what looked like little effort. She moved faster than any wolf he had ever faced, and she was holding her own in this fight outmatched and without any weapons. _I have a bad feeling about this…_

The pale woman had rolled with the kick and sprang to her feet, crouched low and ready to charge at a moment's notice. She glared at Darian with pure hatred. Darian tightened his grip on his sword.

"What the hell are you?!" He roared, earning no response from the pale woman save a vicious snarl, revealing sharp teeth drenched in what looked like blood.

"You don't scare me, demon! Get out of here, I'll put your ass back on the ground again, only without a head!" _Can I even kill her? She just keeps getting up!_ The pale woman smirked at his threat, as if she had heard his thoughts.

"A mere mortal like you doesn't have a hope in your gods to kill me. I've been killing your kind since your grandfather was in his swaddling clothes," She laughed, her voice low and raspy, but strangely beautiful at the same time. "Come mortal, pray to your gods. How cruel they were to plan your life like this. Everything you've ever done, just to end up my meal for tonight!"

Darian scowled in disgust. _Meal? She doesn't look like any werewolf I've ever seen…Is she a vampire?_ Was it possible that all the stories were true? Darian had read the stories as a child about werewolves and vampires but he thought them just stories. His time with the Companions had shown him that werewolves truly did exist and the last time he was in Falkreath, he actually helped a poor werewolf named Sinding who had lost control of himself and killed a little girl. Darian supposed he probably shouldn't be surprised that vampires were real too.

The pale woman took a deep breath. "Ah, your blood smells like hers, but sweeter. She a relative? Let me have a sip. Yes…. I'll drain you dry!"

So vampire. This pale woman must have lost control of herself and gave over to her vampiric disease. Thinking of Bolund, he remembered that he looked drained of color and terrified. Just like the victims in the stories…

The vampire was still sniggering, the mirth never reaching her golden red eyes. Darian pitied her, thinking of his old werewolf acquaintance. Still, she had attacked his family and was likely the one who killed his friend's brother, she had to go. Darian couldn't let that slide. Okay. Vampires. Everything Farkas said came rushing back to him. Clearly he couldn't get up close and personal with her or he'll end up like Solaf. It would have to be a sword length strike.

He was about to charge the laughing vampire with the intent of removing her head from her shoulders to see if she found that funny, when a small mob of nine people and three guards all armed to the teeth rushed around the corner of the blacksmiths house behind her. They were led by a tall brown haired Breton, a young Nord, and the biggest Redguard that Darian had ever seen. The three of them were dressed in strange armor Darian had never seen before.

The vampire whipped around and hissed at the appearance of the newcomers. The Nord lad let out a gasp as he raised a strange weapon and fired a short arrow in response, striking the vampire squarely in the shoulder. She flew back a few yards and crashed through the fence behind Darian.

The vampire leapt up, clutching her shoulder, dark red blood flowing from the wound. She turned her haunting orange/red eyes on Darian.

"This isn't over, human," She hissed, and with one last glance at the newcomers, she took off into the woods so fast she was a blur. _That was even faster than a werewolf…_

"Dammit Agmaer," the Breton fumed, thumping the young lad upside the head, "You know you're supposed to hit the heart or head! How many times have we told you? Now she got away!"

Agmaer, a Nord lad younger than Darian, fumbled with his weapon nervously.

"I- I'm sorry, Cel-Celann… Sir… I panicked…" Agmaer mumbled, looking down at his feet and rubbing the back of his head where Celann had thumped him.

"Stop calling me sir, this isn't the Legion, kid," the Breton snarled, turning away from the boy to look at Darian up and down. The large Redguard placed a hand on Agmaer's shoulder and spoke low to the boy. The rest of the group fanned out, on the lookout for any more threats as the head guard sprinted to the spot where the vampire had run and disappeared into the forest. His comrades passed their torches to the others and hurried after him, their swords at the ready.

"And who're you supposed to be?" Celann asked rudely, but Darian wasn't paying attention; He dropped his sword and rushed to Diana's side, rolling her over and looking her over for injuries. She was dressed in dark leather armor with buckles and pouches crisscrossing her body. Darian had seen this armor before in the Ratway underneath Riften. It belonged members of the Thieves Guild. _She's a member of that bunch, now?_

"Di… Diana! Can you hear me? Wake up!" he half shouted, gently slapping her cheek.

Normally he would have stopped and wondered why Diana joined with to a guild of thieves but he was too concerned with her lack of response. It seemed she was out cold.

Her long dark brown hair spiraled around her head and in his lap, giving her like a strange halo. She looked as peaceful as a corpse. Trying not to panic, Darian put a hand to her brow. _Cold, not good._ He placed two fingers against her neck and but before he could find a pulse, he felt something wet and warm.

He withdrew his fingers and in the flickering of the torches behind him, he saw red. Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought them back. Reaching back down with his now shaking head, he gently turned her head to the right to reveal two small puncture wounds and a trail of bright red blood trickling from it. _Is that my blood?_ No, his other wrist was the one that was bleeding from the dog's bite.

 _No… No! Please, Divines. Please. I know I don't pray to you often but please… Have mercy on her. Akatosh, Mara, Kynareth, Julianos… Whoever! Please, don't let her die!_ Darian could hold back no longer and let out a strangled cry of anguish, not for his injuries, but for his little sister and his failure to keep her safe.

"Please… help…" Darian cried out, franticly searching the group who had come to his aid. A few stopped to look over at him. A Nord woman he did not know was standing behind him holding a torch and gaping at his sister. Darian craned his neck to see if he could find someone who could help.

Darian recognized Lod, the city blacksmith, Dengeir, a thane of the city, Skulnar, a local Legate, Valdr, a hunter whom Darian had helped fight some spriggans once, and the Falkreath alchemist looking over Solaf. Darian pointed a shaking finger at the alchemist as she helped Solaf stand up.

"You! Zania, or Zarys, I don- Please help her!"

The Redguard looked up from the Nord and sheathed her sword, slinging off the bag on her shoulder as she hurried to Darian's side. The men in strange armor had finished talking to each other and the big Redguard man walked over with the one called Celann while the young Agmaer kept an eye on the perimeter of the torchlight, his weapon at the ready, glancing back every few seconds and backing up closer to the situation on the ground. Valdr secured the opposite side of the perimeter just as the Redguard alchemist reached Darian, panting.

"It's Zaria. Is she breathing?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she one else next to him. Darian shook his head.

"I don't know. She's bleeding though," he croaked. Darian moved out of the way so the alchemist could see her work. Zaria placed her fingers against Diana's neck and reached out to raise an eyelid.

"Weak pulse, no response," she muttered, bending over to place an ear near Diana's face, "She's alive, she's just out." Darian let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and grasped his sister's fingers. Relief rocked his body as the shaking intensified. _Thank you,_ he sighed a prayer. Maybe he'd actually step into one of these shrines one of these days with an offering.

Zaria opened Diana's armor to expose her bare chest. The young Nord Agmaer coughed several times, earning himself another thump. Zaria wasted no time, and using her fist, rubbed Diana's sternum hard back and forth until she coughed and sputtered, her eyes bursting open, bloodshot and frantic.

"Augh! What th- What the hell?" she shouted, breathing hard and looking around. Zaria placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back to the ground. By this time the group including Solaf had completely surrounded Darian, Zaria, and Diana.

"Relax, I just had to wake you up. You were attacked by a vampire. Do you remember anything?" Zaria said softly. Diana blinked rapidly, placing a hand on her chest where Zaria had rubbed. Noticing that they weren't alone, she quickly covered herself and closed her armor, only then taking note of Darian when she was done.

"D-Darian?! Wha- what are you doing here?"

Darian was too overjoyed to respond, and for an answer, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to a sitting position so he could give her a crushing hug. Diana winced at the pain.

"Ah… my neck," she gasped as Darian let her go. Zaria raised an eyebrow.

"I think you got bit…" She said slowly, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. Diana's eyes widened as she met Darian's gaze. There was silence for a full minute.

"Di..." he started when one of the crowd stared forward.

"What are you doing, Celann?" the large Redguard asked, his voice deep and commanding. The Breton looked back at him.

"Look at her, Isran. She's one of them. It needs to be done," he said with a somber tone as he reached for his axe hanging from his waist. He never had a chance to grasp the handle.

Darian ripped Diana's Nordic dagger from her boot and launched himself toward Celann before the Breton had a chance to react. Darian used his greater size to put Celann flat on his back, the dagger pressing into his throat. The spots in Darian's eyesight were back, clouding his peripheral vison. _Do it… Just twitch your wrist. Like nothing…_ a voice said to him. It was a second before he realized it was his own thoughts, goading him.

"Go ahead," Darian growled, "Reach for that axe... See what happens." Celann clenched his teeth and opened his fingers in surrender. Darian held his sister's dagger at the Breton's throat for a second longer before his sense caught up to him and he withdrew stepping off of Celann but keeping his sister's dagger within easy reach, his vison slowly clearing. Solaf, clutching his side, grunted as he moved to stand next to him between Diana and the strangers in matching armor.

Celann clutched his throat where the sharpened dagger had created a thin cut. He glared at Darian but said nothing as he got to his feet one handed. The one called Isran placed a hand on his shoulder and held him back. Darian kept his dagger at the ready. _You'd better keep an eye on your boy, there._

"Easy, old friend. There's other ways of settling this," Isran said, his deep voice breaking the strain over most of the crowd. He stepped in front of his companions raising his hands, addressing Darian, still in a defensive ready in front of Diana, still being looked over by Zaria.

"Sorry about that; we're not here to hurt anyone, friend. You can relax in a minute. First things first, we aren't safe yet at the moment. There's still a death hound in the area. He ran off while we were fighting the other ones. It was a huge black dog with the collar, did any of you see which way it went?"

Solaf exchanged a look with Darian.

"A collar, you say? We took down a huge black dog with a collar before we came here, if that's what you're talking about…" Solaf said tentatively. Isran looked visibly relieved.

"Stendarr be praised… I was not looking forward to tracking that beast down, you have my thanks, friends. What are your na- Agmaer! Your crossbow, boy!" He barked, causing the young lad to jump.

"Oh sorry, Isran, sir." Agmaer muttered, lowering his weapon. He had had it leveled on Darian since the adventurer had jumped Celann. Isran shook his head.

"By the gods, boy… What was I saying? Oh yes. I am called Isran, and I'm the leader of the Dawnguard. The lad who nearly shot you over there is Agmaer. I'll make a warrior out of him yet. That hothead over there is Celann, he's got little sense, but he's a good fighter and an old friend."

Celann threw Isran a filthy look and went back to dabbing at his throat with a handkerchief, wiping up the remaining blood that Darian had raised, scowling and avoiding Darian's eyes. Agmaer jumped a little at the sound of his name and raised a hand in greeting.

Diana winced as Zaria brought her up to a sitting position, "I think I've heard something about you guys from the guards back home. Vampire trackers, aren't you?"

Isran nodded. "More like hunters, but yes. We deal in vampire attacks. Celann here is just a little enthusiastic about wiping them out; sometimes he acts before he thinks." Diana threw the Breton a look.

Darian slowly lowered his knife. "I'm Darian, from Riften. This is my younger sister, Diana." He said, slipping the knife in his belt and helping her to her feet. Diana threw an arm around his neck, clutching at her leg, glaring at Celann herself.

"And I'm Solaf, I'm from here. I'm the general goods merchant here in town." Solaf announced, still clutching his stomach where he had landed from the vampire's toss. "What the hell was that thing?"

Celann spit out his next words, "A filthy vampire master. The second one we've come across in this journey alone. Damn thing brought its pets."

"I'm going back inside, I need to check on my family," said Lod, nervously looking over his shoulder where the vampire had vanished. He sheathed his sword and hurried back around the corner.

"Aye," Dengeir agreed heading off towards the road, "I'll let the Jarl know that the town is clear. Thank you for your assistance, Dawnguard. Darian. You too, Solaf. I'll be sure he knows who is responsible." Skulnar sheathed his sword and went after him, rubbing his bleeding shoulder.

Isran nodded and back to Darian and Solaf, "I'll fill you in over some ale. We should head to the inn, drinks are on us. I'm sure we can find someone to help heal your wounds, lass."

Zaria nodded. "Yes I can heal anyone who's hurt but I need to get to my stock, first. I'll help you to the inn then I'll go get them. Those things are gone, right?"

Celann spit on the ground. "Yeah, I doubt we'll see that one back tonight, but I'll have to inform the city guard to put everyone on duty tonight. The night is still young, it'd be foolish not to, Isran."

The leader nodded. "That sounds like a good idea to me, Celann. Let's get everyone all set first. Agmaer, take point with the crossbow."

The uniformed members made their way to the front of the group, Celann giving Darian a wide berth, while the Nord woman and Valdr brought up the rear behind Darian, his sister, Solaf, and Zaria.

Diana winced with every step, holding onto Darian on his hurt shoulder. He caught Zaria's eye. The alchemists caught on and moved behind Diana, ready to catch her if she fell.

Solaf moved to Diana's other side and offered a hand to help her, but she waved him off. She concentrated on her free hand, producing a glow of yellow light. She pressed it onto her hurt leg and let out a long gasp. Darian couldn't help admiring her spellwork even when she was as drained as she was. She was always more talented in magic than Darian had been, taking after their mother, Ruby. Darian never paid much attention during their lessons, although Ruby always said he'd be great if he actually practiced. But when he was young all he wanted to do was bash heads like his father. Learning a few healing spells would probably come in handy he thought to himself as he watched Diana heal herself. She pulled back her hand stained red with dark blood.

"That should do - whoa!" Darian looked around as she started to fall back to the ground, catching her as she went.

"S'not my leg," she said through clenched teeth. "I… I just… don't feel like I have any energy left…"

"It's the bite. I've seen it before," Zaria stepped forward, placing a hand on Diana's back. Diana looked around with half-lidded eyes. Zaria continued. "You'll feel weak for the first few hours after contraction, but I can ease it with a stamina potion. Or you can ride it out. It's not serious."

"Not serious? I've been bit. I think that's pretty serious!" Diana placed a hand over her bite. "Don't you have a potion to cure this?"

Zaria shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. A potion of cure disease would help you right now, but I have none in my wares. Anyone?" She queried, looking over at the others. No one said anything. "That figures… Those can be rare and expensive. I could make one for you, no problem. And it wouldn't cost you anything since your brother helped save us. But the ingredients would take too long to gather and the potion would need to simmer in low heat for a while. Those bitten by vampires will become one of the undead in a matter of three days. There... there is no cure." She crouched toinspect Diana's thigh. "You did manage to heal your cut though… where did you train?"

"My mother," Diana's face fell. Zaria pulled a face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just curious about your technique; I didn't mean to be insensitive to-"

"It's alright," Diana reached back up to grasp Darian's good hand. They made their way forward again a few steps before she spoke again. "So, there's nothing I can do in time…"

Isran looked back at her plainly having listened to the conversation as the group made their way to the front of the building and headed off on the road towards the inn.

"Perhaps there is. You're not a vampire yet, so I'll give you a pass," He said gruffly. "There's a wizard in Morthal-"

"Is that- No!" Solaf sprinted ahead towards the inn, almost knocking Celann to the ground with his shoulder.

"Ah damn," Darian muttered. He had forgotten to warn Solaf of Bolund's fate. Seeing his sister and fighting a mythical vampire had driven his friend's kin out of his mind. Not to mention his wrist was still bleeding and the weight Diana had on his shoulder was excruciating.

Diana's eyes widened as the Bolund's body was illuminated by the torchlight. Zaria gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. Agmaer dropped his crossbow and Isran ran forward, pulling out his warhammer and standing over Solaf as the latter kneeled next to his brother, shaking him and shouting his name.

"Bolund! Bolund! No, Talos, please!" he cried, Bolund's head flopped back and forth, unresponsive.

Isran turned to Celann.

"Go. We can't wait, now. She may be close if this just happened." Celann nodded, drawing a sparkling short sword and sprinting off toward the direction of the guardhouse. Darian made his way closer, still half carrying his sister.

"It didn't just happen," Solaf and Isran locked onto his face, one distraught, the other serious. Isran pointed at the body behind him.

"You know something about this?"

Darian nodded slowly. "Yes. I... I came across Bolund when I got here. I examined him and then I ran into that dog a few moments after that so I didn't have time." He trailed off looking into Solaf's eyes.

Solaf let out a wall of despair, while no one said anything. Iran relaxed slightly, moving back toward the grieving brother.

"It doesn't look like there are any more around," He said finally, placing his warhammer on his back again, "Son, I know what you're feeling. I lost my family against these bloodsucking bastards as well. Stendarr be merciful your vengeance is met." He bowed his head in respect. Solaf fought back the tears and stood, still staring at his brother's lifeless body, ignoring the pain he doubtless felt from his side.

"Who are you?" He demanded, looking at the two in matching armor. He pointed at Isran with a shaking finger, "You seem to know a lot about fighting vampires. Is that what you all do?"

Isran held up his hand, "Yes, but as I said, I'll explain everything after we've tended to your wounds. I think you have some broken ribs and I think your friend here is losing blood."

Darian shrugged. "Its nothing," he slurred, "I just want to make sure my sister is rested and okay."

Diana pushed away from him, wincing only a little as she stood by herself, her expression one of defiance.

"I don't need rest, brother. All I need is a stamina potion. You're the one who needs help. Hold still, I'll heal you." She said, raising her hands and touching Darian's shoulder and wrist. In a matter of seconds, Darian felt his wounds close up and the pain receded to a very dull ache.

"Thank you," Darian said, relaxing his jaw that he didn't realize he had clenched. Diana gave him a sad smile.

"No thank you. If the two of you hadn't come for me, I'd be…" She trailed off, looking over at Solaf. Solaf wasn't paying attention. He had knelt back down next to his brother and placed a hand over his brother's brow, bowing his head in prayer. Darian looked back at his sister, who wobbled a bit on her feet, her eyes going half lidded. When he reached for her she waved him away, standing up straight and gesturing towards Solaf.

The message was clear: Solaf needed help more than she did at the moment.

Agmaer stepped forward and offered his arm to Diana, who gave him a look and ignored him, moving to hoister herself up the short staircase to the door of the inn. _She's trying to stay strong for me, but I can tell she's pushing it._

Darian took a deep breath and picked up Bolund's broken sword pieces, placing them on top of Solaf's abandoned bag and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Isran shooed everyone else into the inn, leaving Darian and Solaf outside with Bolund. Zaria ran off toward her shop to grab her potions she had promised.

Darian waited, not saying anything. Solaf had his Talos pendant in his free hand and was whispering a prayer into it, his tears falling over Bolund's cold body. They stayed like that for a while, mourning, until Solaf stood, stating that he wanted to bury Bolund's body in the Falkreath cemetery.

The two of them spent the next ten minutes carrying Bolund's body and his things to Runil, the Falkreath Priest of Arkay. Runil was as respectful as Isran.

"Bolund was a fine soldier who loved his country. He died protecting her people; we are honored to prepare him for rest." The elf said, bowing his head. He turned crisply, clapping his hands. The Nord behind him stepped forward.

"Which did ya want?" He said, his deep voice dripping with false interest. _Ah, you jackass…_

Runil frowned, "Kust, whatever you may have thought of the man means nothing now, show his passing some respect!" He whispered, then raising his voice, "The grave you were digging last week will do just fine. Just before the birch tree."

Kust grunted glancing at Solaf and Darian across the room before he left, grabbing his shovel hanging on the wall. Runil pushed up his sleeves and headed towards the slab where Bolund's body was laid, ready for its preparations.

"I'm afraid it's going to be a few hours before we're ready, sir," He called over his shoulder. Solaf looked up at the elf's voice. Runil continued, "Kust has to put together one of our finest coffins and finish digging the grave. I have work to do as well. We'll send for you when we're ready."

Solaf nodded numbly, pulling out a pouch of gold before Runil waved his coin away.

"Sir, as I said, we are honored to prepare Bolund for rest. He had supplied us with quality wood for our coffins for years. It wouldn't be right to take your money." He said before bowing them out of his building.

Darian and Solaf made their way up the road to Dead Man's Drink. The streets were quiet but they could hear the Jarl's longhouse and the guard's barracks celebrating their city's vampire victory. Darian was reaching for the door of Dead Man's Drink when Solaf finally spoke.

"You go on ahead, Darian. I... I've got some things I need to gather. I'll meet you in there in a little while." His voice was low, full of pain not all associated with carrying his brother's body with broken ribs.

"Alright, let me know if you need anything," Darian replied, but Solaf had already turned and set off towards his house and shop. Darian watched him go, then pushed the door open and stepped into the inn.

Dead Man's Drink had changed since he was last here. They moved the counter closer to the door and placed two large tables in the middle of the inn. A fire crackled in the back, roasting a few skeevers and a goat's leg. The sweet smell of cooking meat and vegetables made Darian's stomach grumble. He hadn't eaten anything since he had lunch at Jorrvaskr, back in Whiterun and thst was mostly fruit. The tavern was packed full of people Darian had never seen in Falkreath before.

Valga, the tavern's owner, waved him forward. When he was in range she brought up a small barrel and held it out to him.

"That Isran fellow ordered a second barrel for you all. I'm having Narri prepare whatever you all would like to eat, no charge. They're in the back, waiting for you." Darian took the barrel from her and held it under one arm. Pulling out his purse with his other hand, he dropped some coins on her counter.

"I'm going to need one of your rooms with two beds, thanks." A loud crash came from behind him. One of the drunken strangers had shoved another into a bookcase. Darian watched them for a second before turning back to the innkeeper, jerking his head towards the strangers as he took the key she was offering.

"Who're they?" Valga followed his motion and gave a small chuckle when she saw the strangers.

"Them? Just a bunch of miners who think they'll find some gold ore in one of the caves around here. Fools. They were all cowering in fear while Bolund rushed out to face the vampires. Brave, that one. This lot, though… They could learn a thing or two from him. Why they think they can face wolves, spriggans, and bears is beyond me."

Darian looked back at Valga, his heart heavy. "Bolund didn't…. didn't make it. Solaf said he'd be on his way in soon. Just… letting you know."

Valga put her hand over her mouth, eyes wide and watery. She nodded, still looking bewildered as she grabbed a rag and a glass to clean. Darian glanced back at the door and then made his way through the miners, looking for Diana's trademark curly black hair. He spotted Isran in his Dawnguard armor easily. He was sitting at the back table near the fire with his Dawnguard comrades, Valdr, and that Nord woman Darian had seen outside.

Darian set Isran's new barrel on the table, earning a grunt of approval from Valdr, who reached forward to fill his tankard. Celann hesitated before standing and filling his own tankard, watching Darian out of the corner of his eye.

 _That's right, you son of a bitch, sleep with one eye open…_ Darian would have said something but the sight of Celann reminded him of his sister. He craned his neck around, taking in the tavern.

He spied Diana sitting at one of the side booths with Zaria, sipping potion out of a green bottle, while Zaria watched her closely. She looked up suddenly and spotted Darian looking at her. She stood, gesturing for him to come and take a new potion she was holding towards him. Darian approached, gazing at the bottle curiously.

"Just a painkiller. Diana told me she was too drained to heal you properly. Here, it's on the house." Darian thanked her and took the bottle, looking past her at Diana, who seemed as if she were about to pass out as she sipped her potion.

"How is she?"

"Besides the bite, she'll be fine. If I hadn't gotten to her when I did, she might have fallen into a coma," the alchemist said frowning, looking back at Diana, "The stamina potion should kick in in an hour or so, it's a specially made brew. She most likely will fall asleep but don't worry. Just make sure you're checking on her. If her eyes aren't reacting to light, wake her like I did outside. If you need anything, I'll be in my shop down the road." She gave Darian a smile, showing him pearly white teeth.

Darian opened his mouth to thank her again, but she held up a hand.

"No please, don't thank me. If it wasn't for you, Solaf, and the Dawnguard, the Eight only knows who else might be dead. It's this city that should be thanking you. If you're ever in the area again, stop on by. I'll give you a discount. Solaf too. Oh, that reminds me. Here." She handed him a second bottle, corked with bubbling red liquid.

"For Solaf when you see him."

She smiled again and gestured farewell, picking her way through the inebriated miners and heading out into the night. Darian popped the cork and downed the potion for him in one gulp. Good thing too, it was bitter and tough to swallow, but as soon as he did, all the remaining pain from his fights today slipped away like water on an otter. He felt stronger than ever.

He placed the empty bottle on Diana's table and checked on his sister. She had finished her bottle and was slumped in her chair, muttering softly to herself her eyes almost shut in sleep.

Darian could see the bite on her neck. Darian peered closer at it, intrigued. There was no blood anymore but dark black lines spider-webbed out from each puncture mark. _Whoa… That's weird. I wonder how that feels…_ Diana already had a slightly paler look. It was hard to tell because she, like Darian, was half Redguard but he could tell. Her cheeks looked slightly thinner, as if she had missed a couple meals. _That's going to be me if I don't get some food soon…_

Shaking his head clear, he gathered his little sister into his arms, noting that she felt significantly heavier than the last time he had carried her. He was careful to watch her head as he took her down a hall and into the room he rented, laying her down on a bed. Her Thieves Guild armor was tight, fitting to her body well. Darian could see that she had been getting into shape, explaining her weight. Good. He had gotten on her case several times, and it looked like she had finally heeded his advice. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching over her.

Diana began to snore softly as she drifted off to sleep, rolling in her sleep to lay on her stomach. Darian chuckled at the sound, remember how it used to annoy him as a child, but now, he was thankful for it. It seemed she was recovering quickly.

 _Well not from everything. She's going to become a vampire…_ Darian gazed at Diana's face, trying to imagine it as full of hatred as the vampire today... _No… Not even then. Diana wouldn't lose control like that one did today._ Even as a vampire, Darian was sure she'd still be his sister.

Isran had been saying something about a wizard and a cure. Darian stood up. He'd go and ask the old warrior when he went back for some food. Darian rubbed his eyes, he was getting tired too. Today had been quite a day.

Darian reached over and removed Diana's boots, placing them at the side of her bed, so they'd be easy to find when she woke. Then he took off her gloves and placed them on her end table before unbuckling the neck of her armor, so she could breathe easy. He pulled her blanket over her body and tucked her in bending down to give his sister a kiss on the head and move her hair out of her face. Darian never understood why she slept on her stomach.

 _Speaking of…_ His own grumbled loud enough to make its point known. Darian doused the candle on the door frame, heading back towards the noisy tavern and hopefully, some answers.

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 **This chapter was a blast to write! I was actually going to stuff a bunch more into it but ended up deciding to put that at the beginning of the next chapter at the last minute. Hopefully I'll be able to put out the fourth chapter soon! I've got lots of ideas and I'm still busy on my original story. Soon! But while you're waiting, I'd appreciate it if you left a review, it helps SO much, trust me! Have a good day, everyone!**

 **-The Fit Nerd**


	4. A Sibling's Love

**Hey everyone, I know I've been MIA for over a year. Lots of things have been going on in my life, I've hit major writers block, and I've been focused on other stuff and ideas. BUT! I never forgot this story, and I've been writing a sentence or two all the time. Anyway, here's an extra long chapter as an apology and a promise to do better in the future.**

* * *

Isran's group had been served their food by the time Darian made his way to the noisy inn. The miners, loud and rambunctious, understandably elated for having survived the attack. Darian wove his through them when one of the more intoxicated laborers shoved him as he tried to pass, fists balled. Grasping the hilt of his belt knife, Darian narrowed his eyes, inviting the challenge dead on. One of the more sober miners quickly ushered his friend back to their table, apologizing. Darian rolled his eyes and walked on, the way to Isran's table clear. Plates teeming with meat, fruits, and vegetables cluttered the center of the group's large booth. Isran himself was tearing into half a goat's leg, listening to their conversation when he noticed Darian approaching.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," Isran said after swallowing his bite of goat with an effort. Everyone looked up at him as he stood next to the table, "We saved you a spot and some food, help yourself." Isran gestured at several plates sitting on the table, waiting to be claimed. Darian stayed where he was, taking in everyone at the table. Celann was still eating while the lad Agmaer sat closest to Darian. The lad had already finished his food, and sat writing in a book in small, neat handwriting. Isran glanced around and lowered his voice.

"I understand. You want answers, I get that. We were just talking about our next move, but I'm betting you're more interested in what we know. Come, eat. You've lost blood, it'd be best if you didn't pass out before we're finished here. Seriously, we will tell you everything you want to know. There's a lot to talk about, so get some color back. None of us here are healers." When Darian nodded, Isran nudged Agmaer to the side so a space on the bench was empty.

"Thanks," Darian said, pulling the closest plate to him, a large slab of venison with grilled leeks and baked potato.

"Where's that shopkeeper? Solaf?" Celann queried. Darian glanced at the Breton as he stabbed his potato with a fork. Celann narrowed his eyes slightly, as if taking offense. Darian realized that he didn't care.

"M'not sure," he admitted, between bites, "He didn't say what he was doing, but I'm sure he'll be along." Celann grunted, turning back to speak to Valdr. The conversation around the table began to pick up again as Darian ate. While he wasn't paying much attention, he was dimly aware that everyone around the table was sneaking glances at him as put his food away in record time. He didn't care what they thought, Isran was right. He had been on the edge of collapsing. Finishing his plate he shoved it away reaching out for another, one nearly overflowing of charred skeever and a bowl cabbage stew next. Narri, the inn bard and assistant, came by to take his and Agmaer's plates, whisking away to other tables as she went.

Being such an active adventurer and sellsword required a lot of energy so Darian was quite used to eating a lot of food. All of the fights today at Jorrvaskr and against the vampire had left him utterly drained. His nap on the carriage down to Falkreath hadn't helped either. He could feel his strength returning slowly as he ate in silence.

 _It's nothing short of a miracle I'm even alive, fighting a vampire on a nearly empty stomach…_ That was one of the first lessons he had learned when he first started training. Fighting while famished was an easy way to get hurt, and Darian had the scars to prove it. At Jorrvaskr, the Companions preferred their meat a bit on the raw side, for obvious reasons, so Darian hadn't eaten much there besides some fruit. He'd gotten sick eating there before, and wasn't feeling up to risking it again. One memory of shitting his brains out on Nazeem's farm was enough for him. He shook the memory away as he drank deeply from his tankard and listened to the scratching of Agmaer's quill. He was on his last bites when someone addressed him again.

"Well, I certainly can appreciate a man who can eat," the pretty Nord woman chuckled. Darian shrugged but didn't answer, mouth full of charred skeever meat. She winked. Darian did his best to keep his face blank as his stomach flipped; despite being years younger than him, she was eyeing him much like Saadia usually did. Celann rolled his eyes.

"By the Eight, Angi, always trying to rob the cradle. Ease back, woman."

Angi, however, leaned closer to Darian, "Hey, are you a Redguard? Your color looks similar to others I've met, but much lighter than I've ever seen. Your sister too." She asked bluntly. Darian noticed that Celann had caught his eye suddenly before quickly glancing away, staring pointedly at the group of miners now harassing the Narri as she tried to take their finished plates.

"Half. Our father's a Nord."

Celann's face darkened as Angi laughed.

"Damn," Celann said, sitting back and rummaging through his pockets to put a handful of septims in front of Angi. "I was sure you two had Breton in you…"

"Cheers, Celann," Angi giggled, "You're terrible at betting. I'll have your whole purse by the time we get to the Rift."

"Just shut it why don't you Angi, I'm tired of it," he grunted, taking another swig of his tankard. Darian was just finishing the last of his plate when the mention of her name stirred a memory.

Darian raised his eyebrow to the woman, "Angi? Are you…" She raised her mug to him and gave him another wink, sending his stomach to a belly flop again.

"The sharpest eye in Skyrim? The one and only. Where've you heard of me?"

"My friend Aela, of the Companions. She told me that you're the best shot she's ever seen."

"You're damn right she is! That's the reason we're down here, for her training," Celann grunted. Darian perked up at the word. Agni chuckled again.

"Yeah, I thought you might be the type. Most people who hear of me come looking for lessons. You've definitely got a look for it," she said, reaching out to grasp Darian's arm. Darian smiled awkwardly and moved his elbows from the table to his sides. He couldn't help but notice a flash of jealousy in Celann's eye as Agni appraised Darian over him. She didn't look at all embarrassed as she leaned back into her seat, playing with the rim of her tankard. "Though your bow is in quite a sorry state. You're going to need a new one soon."

"I'm working on it. Bows are expensive." The way she kept eyeing him made Darian feel uncomfortable, and he never liked talking about himself much.

"So you're joining them?" Darian asked her, nodding to the uniformed members at the table.

"Oh no no no…" she said, sucking some of the suds off her finger, "No, I'm not the joining type. I follow the coin, handsome. This here's an organization with too much structure for me. They're paying me to train them, that's all."

Darian nodded, "So you're planning on fighting vampire with bows and arrows?" he asked the uniformed companions. Isran answered him.

"There are many ways to take down a vampire, but they usually require close combat skills. We don't have many true fighters among us yet, so our best bet is to take the leeches by surprise when we track them down. And the best way to do that is with the crossbow," he said, gesturing toward the weapon in Agmaer's lap. "Truly, a vampire can be killed like any other man, but the best way to do it would be to cut his head off, set him on fire long enough, or hit him in the heart or head with a crossbow. But none of us in our organization have done much archery in our times so I'm hoping a basic instruction in the form from a master would hone our abilities to the next level," he continued, looking at Angi as she poured herself another ale, "Honestly Angi, with us, you'd never want for coin. People would gladly pay us for our services and we have a great cook on retainer." She gave a shrug, winking at Darian again, who looked away.

"Even so, I said I'm not the joining type, otherwise I'd have long joined the Thieves Guild. I said I'll train you and I will. But once we get to Riften and I get my payment, I won't see much of a reason to stay. I'm not making a life out of getting on the bad side of vampires. By the way, Isran. I'm THE master." Darian heard her reply, strong and clear; as if she had made this point several times in the past.

Isran forced a smile, "Of course, of course… Well I can't say I'm not disappointed..." he admitted, his deep voice trailing. Turning to Darian, he adopted a genuine face, though it was hard to tell, what with his tough looking face.

"Well, tell us Darian, what do you think of all this? I have a feeling that we could use someone like you. I've learned to trust my gut feelings. You could take the oath like our other prospect here. You both have already proven yourselves tonight." He motioned toward Valdr. The young hunter grinned widely at Darian.

"Hey old buddy, it's been a while."

Isran looked back and forth between Darian and Valdr. "You know each other, already?"

Valdr smiled. "Of course. I'm only drawing breath because of our friend here. Last year, my friends and I were on a hunt when we were attacked by three spriggans. They… didn't make it," the young hunter's voice trailed slightly as he recounted the sad tale, but he quickly shook it and continued, smiling again. "I thought I was a goner when this guy comes out of nowhere, and fought them off, with two swords. He saved my ass and carried me all the way back here to get healed. Always a pleasure, Darian" He held out his arm, Darian smiled and grasped his forearm. Isran looked impressed.

"You killed three spriggans by yourself?" he asked in awe. Darian could feel the eyes of everyone at the table on him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking anywhere but Angi. Agmaer's hand flew across his book, impressively managing not to blot the pages with the ink as he wrote. Even Celann forgot to scowl at him, in spite of himself. _I hate the damn spotlight…_

"Well, I only killed two, the last one ran off after…" Darian clarified, motioning toward the hint of a scar puckered on his forearm. That spriggan had damn near sliced off the muscle, "And the others must have tired them out before I came along otherwise I might not have come out of that one." He caught Valdr's eye roll at his modesty as Isran let out a low whistle.

"Still, to fight three at the same time and live to tell the tale… You're a true warrior, son. I don't know if any of us could have managed that. Even that innkeeper knew who you were when I mentioned you'd be joining us," He leaned forward excitedly, "Darian, we have a real need for warriors."

"I don't really even know who this 'we' is. Who are you all? I've never even heard of your organization before today."

Isran sat up a little straighter. The miner group was louder than ever, making a mess of front of the inn, singing, and fighting, some trying to grab Narri's private areas and earning slaps in return. Isran was forced to speak up to be heard.

"Well I'd be surprised if you had, we've only been operating for about two months. We're a young organization, so we've been out recruiting. Picked up this one just as I said." He gestured with his tankard to Valdr.

"I suppose I only gave you the short hand version, outside, then… There's some history to our order. The Dawnguard was once an ancient group dedicated to the eradication of the vampire menace in Skyrim. It carried on for a generation or two before things fell apart and the people of Skyrim and the rest of Tamriel began to disregard the vampire threat. Nearly all of the vampires had been killed or, I guess obviously now, driven into hiding. For the last couple of years there has been a marked increase in attacks. The leeches even took control of a fort near the mountain; Once I had confirmed that, I knew that something needed to be done, so I took it upon myself to reform the Order."

"Daedra hunters, like the Vigilants," came a quiet voice next to their table. Nearly everyone jumped or twisted in their seat to find Solaf leaning against one of the support beams, listening intently to the conversation over his thick crossed arms. Darian couldn't believe he had missed his approach; _I must be really tired._ He glanced around the rest of the inn.

A few of the miners had formed a circle around two men fighting as Solaf sat down next to Celann, who quickly made room for him, giving his condolences to the shopkeeper as well as everyone else at the table. Darian could see Valga berating her rude patrons and shooing them from the inn, making nearly as much noise as they had. Darian turned back to Isran addressing Solaf.

"…did you hear?" he was saying.

"Enough about your organization to know that you all know some things about these bloodsucking monsters. I might want in," Solaf responded, with a hard gleam in his eye. Isran nodded and raised his tankard as the inn began to quiet down.

"I'm glad to hear it, my friend. I know how you must feel, I lost my own family to a vampire coven as well. Your brother was a brave man to have jumped into the fight; his memory will live on through everyone he helped protect. We'll be sure to have our Scribe make note." He nodded to Agmaer, still feverishly writing in his book. Solaf nodded his thanks as Isran gave him the shadow of a sympathizing smile.

Celann however, pointed to Solaf's sword. "What's your fighting experience? That sword looks hardly used."

Solaf frowned, as if offended. "I was a soldier for the Stormcloaks some time ago, and before that I fought in the Imperial Army in the war against the elves. I haven't needed to use my weapons in some time and I take good care of my things. Why? What of it?"

But at his words, Celann and Isran exchanged a glance. The Redguard leaned forward, his voice low almost to a whisper even now that the inn was quite empty save a couple farmers and a hooded man in black robes sitting on the far side of the inn.

"The two of you are quite impressive. A warrior and a soldier helping us train new recruits would be the most ideal start to our operation as we could hope for," Isran said in a rush, with the slightest of glances in Agni's direction. The Master archer happily ignored the hidden jibe, giving her bow her attention.

Celann nodded, all antagonism absent, "That's right. The two of you would be able to help us become a formidable force. We could wipe out the bloodsuckers from Skyrim in a few years with real military and guerrilla training," he gestured to Isran and himself, "We're priests, not seasoned fighters. The kid over there is a pig farmer! We need all we can get. Everything that's happened tonight, you must want to do something! Join us, both of you!"

"Yes, you're half-right, Solaf," Isran added, "A few of our number was Vigilants, myself included. I was once a proud member, but they ignored my warnings of the leech threat, so I left. I took with me a few members I could convince with me. It hurt me a bit. To leave the Vigilants with so few members, but this was one threat I couldn't ignore. Not with my losses…"

Solaf looked to the three Dawnguard members, "So how many more members do you have? I'm assuming there's more than you three. Do members have to swear to Stendarr?"

Celann shook his head, "We aren't doing this for religious reasons, we're doing it because the leeches need to be stopped. You can worship whichever of the Eigh-er Nine, you want. But to answer your other question, we have just over forty members at the moment, including us. Most of them are prospects, with only a few had ever even seen a bloodsucker. We were looking for two of Isran's old friends to join us as officers and then we ran into Agni. Like she said, she's only willing to go straight back with us since we have to pay for her training. We sent off Gartjar to go find Isran's old friend Sarine while we get training." The Breton looked toward Isran, frowning, "Actually, we should have heard from him by now."

Isran waved a big hand, "Gartjar can take care of himself," he said in a dismissive tone, though Darian could see a flash of worry cross his large scarred face, "Hopefully we can find Gunmer on the way back to Riften." Darian blinked.

"Riften? Why are you heading to Riften?"

"We're headed home to Fort Dawnguard, our base of operations. You know of the fort in close proximity to Riften? The one in between the mountain range?"

"That big one that's been falling apart for decades? I didn't even know it had a name."

"Aye, it's been in a bit of a sorry state, but we recruited a few builders the first week I reformed us, so there should be plenty of improvements by the time we get back. We'll need out defenses at peak strength. The leeches we've been fighting this past fortnight have got to be the strongest I've ever seen."

"So, my brother's killer," Solaf bristled, his eyebrows bunched together into one as he frowned, "Darian and I deserve to know what happened tonight." At his statement, Darian clenched his fists underneath the table, digging into his palms. Isran absently stroked his beard before beginning.

"We were scouting the area in response to reports about a lair nearby. We had heard word of travelers disappearing, so we knew something was up. We tracked it down and stormed the cave, but there weren't any bloodsuckers there, although we could tell that's where they lived. So we set it to fire and headed back to town, on the lookout. We went the long way back to Falkreath through the graveyard and that's when we saw the vampires and their thralls getting ready to attack some youths. We had no choice but to charge in. I myself crushed one of the thralls and engaged the big male while Celann and Valdr fought the female and her hounds. I kind of lost track of things after that. That vampire was insanely powerful and fast." He looked expectantly at Celann to continue.

Darian suddenly noticed that Agmaer had stopped writing, and was the only person at the table who wasn't engrossed in the conversation. Following his line of sight, Darian gazed at the hooded figure sitting alone in the furthest corner of the inn. He had the strangest feeling of familiarity in the man. He just noticed that in the entire time Darian had been in the inn, the man hadn't called for food or drink, in fact, he looked much like a statue. Darian caught Agmaer's eye, who gave the strangest of nods and turned to Solaf's question.

"Wait, hold up. What the hell is a thrall?"

Agmaer spoke, his voice soft, but clipped, as if he were reading out of a book. "A thrall is a being who had been influenced by a Master vampire to do his/her bidding. They will defend their masters to the death and will see to all their needs, including offering themselves to be fed off of."

Valdr spluttered, nearly choking on his tankard as he grasped his throat, "Wait, they actually allow vampire to bite them?" he wheezed, eyes watering. Agmaer gave him a small smile.

"They have no choice. The spell destroys all free will. Don't worry though, the only way to become a thrall is to be bitten by a Master vampire and then he'll perform a spell which will take time for someone to kill him possibly. It's a nasty ability of theirs, though. I've seen it done before. A friend of mine back in my home village…" his face darkened as he spoke. Valdr opened his mouth to speak but Agmaer cut him off. "And before you ask, no, being bitten by a vampire doesn't mean you have to die. They don't need all your blood on average when they feed, but many of them just take it all anyway, to leave no witnesses. Also being bitten won't necessarily turn you into a vampire either. For that they would have to nearly drain your body of blood and release their own infected blood into your veins. That's what causes the virus to spread and those weird lines crisscrossing on the bite we saw tonight. All that's known is that it only takes a few days after being bitten to turn, but some rumors say that it has been known to take only a few hours. The disease usually knocks a person out for the majority of the transformation period. Many people have claimed that after being bitten they actually woke up and had already turned." The table was eerily quiet as the tabled soaked in his words. Agmaer cleared his throat and went on.

"Vampires have full control of the consequences of their bite; meaning they can drink your blood, turn you into one of them, or turn you into a thrall, or sometimes it won't do anything at all. No one is sure how that works. As far as I know, no vampire has ever divulged their secret on this."

Celann spat on the ground, "As if any bloodsucking bastard would do anything to help mankind. Fucking disgusting leeches. The world will be well rid of them all."

Agmaer winced, "Th-that's not necessarily true. Um… there were several accounts of a vampire playing a central role in solving the Oblivion Crisis. And there was one vampire named Shakah who put an end to-"

"You know a lot about them, kid," Solaf interrupting. Agmaer shrugged. Darian turned back to Celann, eager to hear the rest of the story, his impatience rising. Celann carried on.

"Well anyway, like Isran said, we were fighting the bitch leech and three death hounds. After a few seconds though, she bolted, then the biggest hound went after her. We would have pursued but we were blocked off by the other two hounds and a thrall who came out of the other side of the graveyard," he admitted, not looking at Solaf. The shopkeeper had his fists clenched so hard that Darian could see drops of blood smearing underneath them on the table as they shook with rage and grief. "I figured that she was after the Jarl but we had Agni and Agmaer there already, so I suppose that's when she went after the youths who by then ran off." He looked away, as if pretending not to see the tears creeping down Solaf's face. The table went silent. Isran was the only one to speak to the grieving brother.

"I sent Agmaer to make contact with the townsfolk. Everyone is safe. Your brother distracted her. Gave them enough time to escape, they said. If there is a more honorable loss of life, I am not aware of it." Solaf nodded, not caring to pretend he was wiping his eyes.

"So… what happened next?"

"I killed the male I was fighting and helped Celann and Valdr take out the thrall and remaining hounds. We were looking for the female and the missing hound when we met up with all those other folks come with Agmaer to see what was going on. Then those guards you saw were apparently dispatched to find out what was going on arrived and we were telling the story again. Thankfully they believed us, but we went completely the wrong way looking for the leech. We ran into that pretty alchemist and were warning her when we heard that scream but no one could agree as to where it came from. It was only when we saw the blacksmith running toward where you all were did we finally catch up to you two."

Darian nodded, impatient now that they were on the topic he was there to talk about.

"So my sister. That one said that turnings have been known to happen quickly, so what's to be done? You were saying something about a cure earlier." He asked Isran pointedly.

"We've heard tell of a wizard in Morthal who studies diseases of all types, vampirism included. It's rumored that it was he who discovered a cure to lycanthropy too, and now he it seems he claims to have developed the cure for vampirism as well."

"Lycanthropy," blurted Valdr, "What, you mean werewolves?"

Angi rolled her eyes, "You fought a vampire today and you're surprised that werewolves exist too? You're not very smart are you? Dragons once roamed the skies, don't forget." The young hunter blushed.

"Right, um… of course." He said sheepishly. Isran turned at the sound of Darian getting to his feet.

"You kept saying 'rumors'. Well, does he exist or not?"

"If you believe the word of the Jarl of this town. Where-where are you going?"

"To the stables. I'm going to buy the fastest horses in the city. Diana and I are going to head to Morthal at once. You never mentioned the mage's name."

Isran expression changed noticeably as he looked at Celann and Agmaer who both shook their heads.

"Like I said, we only heard rumors of this mage. I don't have his name to give you. Forgive me. I had gotten excited and wasn't thinking. Of course you'd want to help your sister. But, the stables are closed at the moment and the handlers are likely too afraid to do business at such a late hour after the events of tonight. You'd have to wait at least until morning."

"It doesn't matter, I'll break their door down if I have to."

Isran stood and put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him slightly, not balking in the slightest at Darian's expression.

"Don't go getting yourself locked up, son. You'll be of no help to anyone then. I know it's asking a lot, trust me; but you'll want to stay put until morning, when that vampire is likely asleep. That'll give you time to think and make a plan."

Darian sighed, irritated at the sense the Redguard was making. After a moment, he relaxed.

"You're right. I'll stay, for now."

Isran smiled and sat back down, looking at Darian expectantly. Darian shook his head.

"No, I'm going to go check on Diana. Thank you for the food." Isran nodded, turning to speak to Solaf, breaking the shopkeeper from his absent-minded staring at the wall. As Darian gathered up some food for his sister he caught Celann's eye once again. The Breton hesitated before nodding in his direction but Darian ignored him, picking his way past the skimpily dressed girls trying to clean up as their end of day duties.

Darian walked down the hallway, his mind racing. What was next for Diana? For him? Would he truly find his purpose with the Dawnguard? It was as if his entire life had been barreling to this point and now he was at a crossroad in which he couldn't see the paths, let alone know which to take. He didn't know how he felt about killing vampires. He knew all about werewolves and their ability to lose control due to their condition. He had seen it before personally, with Farkas. He only felt pity for them, and even though the vampire tonight had done wrong to him and his family, he felt pity for her too. Of course, had he lost his sister to this vampire, he figured he would feel differently about her personally. It was a grey situation. He knew the difference between wanting to kill a single vampire, and wanting to kill an entire species, like the Dawnguard's goal seemed to be. From what he learned tonight, not all vampires personally were bad. Just like not all werewolves were bad.

These Dawnguard reminded Darian somewhat of the Silver Hand, a lunatic group out to kill all werewolves, the Companions included. There was a marked difference however in the Dawnguard's organization and professionalism, but the prejudice was there all the same, and it did not sit right with him. Surely, turning into a vampire wouldn't change a good person into an evil person. Doesn't the fact that he had lived his whole life in Skyrim and only just now fought a vampire, much less had an actual encounter with one? Perhaps he had already had encounters with vampires but they bore him no harm. Darian recalled when he became aware of werewolves. They aren't very numerous, but they certainly were around. He knew of one near this very town. But Sinding was overcome with remorse after losing control and hurting someone, proving, at least to Darian, that he deserved help.

As he was deep in his thoughts, he walked past the door to his room. He blinked, turning around and pushing it open. There was a loud scrape as something came hurtling toward him. Before he could do more than brace himself, his attacker stopped just short of the doorway.

"Oh, it's you."

"Diana! You're awake already?" Darian relaxed out of his ready stance, removing his hand from his hilt. Diana sighed, putting down the candlestick. He noticed that she staggered a bit.

"Sorry, I'm still a little jumpy. I only just woke back up. I don't remember getting here so I was kind of freaking out and then I heard the door open."

"It's okay, everything is alright. We're still in the inn, I rented this room and carried you here after you passed out. That stamina potion must be working then? Otherwise you'd probably be in a coma."

"What?"

Darian held out the food waiting for her to take it. "Here, eat this, I'll tell you everything I heard tonight."

The candles in their room had nearly burned out by the time they had finished talking, catching Diana up on everything Darian had heard at the Dawnguard table. He was more exhausted than ever but his curiosity got the better of him.

"So… How does it feel? The... y'know…" he pointed to the bite on her neck, just visible under the collar. Diana rubbed her neck, which had gotten slightly paler as the hours had passed. Darian kept imagining that he could see the lines creeping ever so slowly.

"It throbs every once in a while but it's cold, not hot. I can't explain it. I get what you were saying though. I feel like if I were to lie down, I would fall asleep for days, but that stamina potion is the only thing keeping my eyes open. Certainly not this," She held up her bread. "In fact, none of this food is that tasty. It tastes like it's starting to go bad."

"That can't be right," Darian picked up a slice of horker from her plate and took a bite. "Tastes as good as it did out there. Horker is your favorite, isn't it?"

His sister's face fell as worry flashed her face, staring at the remainder of her food. He could tell during their conversation that she had been trying to keep up her image as his fun-loving little sister, but now she looked as if everything had caught up with her. Darian quickly changed the subject.

"Hey, what's with the armor? That's Thieves Guild, right? When did that happen?"

His sister shrugged, finishing the last of the bread, and wiping the crumbs off her leather outfit.

"Ugh… That's disgusting. Yeah, it is. I met this Brynolf guy a few days after you left home last year. Did a few jobs for him and then he told me that if I could make it through the Ratway, I was in. Didn't think you should be the only one out making a name for yourself. You must've known I wouldn't stick to mining." She gave him a look. "What, you don't approve?"

Darian opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. He shrugged, "Well, you were always better at sneaking around than I was so… I don't know. It's your life to live, I guess. You don't need my blessing," he smiled, "Do Mother and Father know?"

"No. They still think I'm working at that ebony mine up the road from the house, so let's keep it that way. They're not idiots so I'm sure they'll figure it out eventually, but I don't care to have that conversation just yet," She stood, stretching her legs, appraising him. "Maybe you should join up with us; you're nearly as good as I am at picking locks. I know Vex would like to see you again, she keeps asking about you." She waggled her eyebrows at him, almost back to herself again.

Darian groaned. He'd spent one drunken night with Vex last year and now she was dogging him every few feet whenever he came back to town.

"I'll pass. So you're the one getting the Guild back to their glory days. I keep hearing whispers from time to time."

She smiled. "Well it's not all me, but I've been working hard, especially these last few months. I was the one who helped put Guild presence in Whiterun."

"So what are you way down here for? How did you get here anyway? Don't tell me you walked all the way here from Riften."

"You're not the only one in the family with some endurance, Braveheart," she chuckled, using his childhood nickname, "I had already been hanging around Whiterun these last few days. I actually saw you coming in from the west with some kid in tow the other day. I was going to say hi but I was busy running things for the meadery. I came down here for a separate job."

"Meadery? What does the Thieves Guild want with the meadery?" Diana half-smiled at his question.

"Do you really want to know? Cause I can tell you if you really want."

Darian yawned and stretched, leaning back on the wall his bed rested against.

"No… I guess not then. Anyway, what we need to do now is wait until the stables open at dawn. Like I said earlier, it's going to take us some time to get to Morthal and longer still to find this necromancer," He mumbled on but his exhaustion was threatening to finally catch up with him. After much effort on her Diana was able to convince him to get some shut-eye, that falling off a horse in the morning would be counter-productive. Succumbing to her logic, he collapsed into bed and was snoring softly in minutes.

...

The old inn creaked endlessly against the wind and its own age, irritating Diana to no end. Deciding that there was no blocking it out, she got to her feet and stretched her stiff limbs, rubbing her slightly sore throat. She had been trying to meditate for the last hour or so, while Darian slept, but found it near impossible. It wasn't just the creaking inn, but the memory of her attacker kept flying to the front of her mind she was trying to clear.

"Oh yes, you're mine forever, little thief!" the ragged woman had snarled, leaping inhumanly from a branch, fingers curled into claws and spit lining her open mouth already caked with dried blood. Diana couldn't stop thinking of those crazed red-orange eyes, wild with bloodlust. She kept glancing at the mirror to see any change in her eyes or running a hand to her mouth, trying to feel if they had become sharpened. Still nothing yet. Diana shuddered, remembering how those cold fangs had sliced through her neck and she could feel her blood draining almost immediately before she passed out.

The bite on her neck had some sort of draining effect but that stamina potion she'd taken was still making its rounds, keeping her up all throughout the night. She thought back to their conversation. How much time did she have? From what Darian had told her, the change would be inevitable; that there would be no time to find a curing potion before she became undead. What would that be like? Would she be able to control herself? Already she could tell that it had begun. When Darian had fallen asleep on top of his bed, she had taken pity on him and pulled her own blankets over his sleeping form. When she'd searched him for her blade he'd taken from her, she could feel his skin. It felt as if he'd been sitting in front of a giant's campfire in the middle of the day. Her skin was growing colder by the hour. She supposed that she should be more frightened but quickly dismissed such a response to this situation. It had been years since she was a helpless child paralyzed in fear. She gritted her teeth, _Fuck it._ She had never been the type to wallow in her own misfortune.

Through the window, Diana could hear the earliest of morning birds, chirping to indicate somewhere around 4am. _I guess this is the best time to do it,_ she thought, sitting down on the edge of her bed, silently pulling on her boots so as not to wake her brother. Sleeping on his side, he snored lightly, his breath sending a fog up his sword inches from his pillow resting against the wall and end table. As big as he was, she could still see the scrawny wannabe savior of Tamriel he was when they were children in his face. She loved that then, as now, he was always trying to prove himself a great warrior; He endlessly challenged the guards and other children to duels, earning him the nickname Braveheart. As she looked down on his sleeping form, a sharp freezing throb made itself known in her neck. She bit down hard on her lip to stop from crying out, drawing blood. The smell of it triggered that strange feeling she had when she ate the food that Darian had brought for her. It was almost as if this feeling overcame the need for nourishment. A matter for a different time. _Stop thinking so much. I've only got a few hours to do this or the sun will come up and then I'll miss my shot._ Taking one last look at her brother, she slipped silently out of the room.

The Dead Man's Drink was deserted and clean. Someone had stacked the cookware neatly on the ledge of the fire pit, ready for the new day and swept up all the trash from last night. Diana eyed the strongbox as she passed the front counter, but thought better of it. _Not worth it. We haven't even cooked the books here yet._ No need to needlessly bring attention to the Guild in this Hold just yet. She had a plan to change that, she thought as she patted one of the pouches on her armor.

As Diana stepped outside she noticed immediately that the wind had picked up considerably from what she had heard inside. _Well that explains the inn creaking._ Which suited her just fine on a job; people always squint or focus on the ground and miss the little things when the weather's bad. This sudden cold snap over Skyrim was something no one had anticipated in the middle of the summer.

Slipping up her hood, she noticed that the crisp air did not bother her as much as it usually did this early in the morning. Before she could think more on that, she saw that someone had moved Bolund's body while she had been out. Diana had actually never spoken to Solaf's bigoted brother before, but she had an opinion on him from what other folks had to say about his beliefs. However, from what Darian had said about the circumstances of his death, she felt some pity for the old Stormcloak. Political differences aside, she felt that any man who would fight a vampire without a second thought to save some kids was deserving of an ale and a kinder end. Was that going to be her future? Was she really going to hunt and kill people just to survive? Would the Guild accept a vampire in their midst?

 _NO! Stop distracting yourself, girl. No matter what, I will never take the life of an innocent. I will find a way even if there really is no cure! Now focus! The Guild is counting on you to do your job, no matter what._ Tearing her eyes from the spot Bolund had died, she set off down the street at a brisk pace. She had four stops to make: the blacksmith's shop, the general store, the Jarl's longhouse, and the alchemist shop. The blacksmith was the closest, but the alchemist shop would be the most potentially lucrative and dangerous for the job what with being so close to the guard house and the shop most visited in Falkreath during the day. Considering that, she decided to make Grave Concoctions her first stop while it was still dark and the night patrol light. Even after a vampire attack, daily routines in Falkreath apparently went unchanged. Voices trailed on the air from the cattle area, likely the hired help getting the farm ready for the day. Maybe one of them was one of the kids Bolund had died to save; she hoped they appreciated his sacrifice, wherever they were.

Sticking to the shadows and out of the still lit ground based torches reach, she spotted the alchemy shop just ahead, the withered old sign swinging gently in the gust. Glancing down the way past the shop she could see a small group of guards huddled around their torches. _Fools_ , she thought. They were too focused on trying to stay warm that they weren't dedicated to their duties tonight. _To protect the public from folks like me_ , she thought as she grinned, sliding up to the door and pressing her ear against it, listening for any movement. Before she had decided if anyone was on the other side, another guard she hadn't seen earlier came around the corner. Diana would have been caught had he not been looking back the other way toward his friends, giving her just enough time to cast an invisibility spell. Still, she saw him double take and stare precisely at the spot she had vanished. _Damn… I'm the fool. Of course they would take a walkaround in shifts. Idiot, idiot, idiot!_

"H-Hello?" he asked tentatively, grasping the hilt of his sword and flooding the doorway with light from his torch. His voice shook and cracked with youth and fear as he took half a step forward. Diana actually had to hold her breath as the young guard approached, trying to maintain focus. It was hard enough to perform such a difficult spell under normal circumstances, not helping much when she was half drained from the vampire attack. If this kid caught her, it would set the Guild back a long way and possibly setting her mission in this area on hold indefinitely if any of the locals knew what they were up to. She figured she had little over a minute before she lost control of her spell, so her fate was up to Nocturnal. Just when she thought she could possibly make it to a nearby bush before she became visible again, the young guard gave a shrug and turned, continuing his way toward the inn. Not pausing to breathe a sigh of relief and moving so quickly even Vex would have been impressed, Diana made short work of the lock and let herself inside, the spell wearing off the moment the door closed.

For a moment she stood in the doorway to listen for the approach anyone who might have heard the door close, and to catch her breath, in case she needed to use her spell once more. Letting her eyes adjust to the dark room, she took note of the interior, taking deep, slow breaths to build her energy up faster. Past experiences told her to always expect booby traps in unlikely places on a job. She had been a little shaky at first, bribing guards more than once to look the other way, but now, with the help of her friend Asher, who had joined shortly before she did, she had become Brynolf's pride and joy to the Guild.

She could see at once that Zaria used the shop as living quarters, spotting a bed to her far right. She groaned inwardly. Places like these made jobs so much harder because if one is too focused on the lock of a chest or strongbox, they'd miss someone coming up behind them. The bed looked empty but this wasn't Diana's first day as a thief. She whispered a spell that would reveal the rough location of any living people nearby.

The bed was definitely empty but she saw a living source several feet below the floor walking around. Definitely Zaria. With eyes already adjusted to the dark, Diana spotted a cleverly hidden trapdoor near the bed; invisible to any who didn't know what to look for. _Hm… She must have a laboratory down there_. Most of the alchemistic or enchanting types had hidden laboratories besides the setup that customers saw in their shops. The Redguard was likely checking her potions so Diana would have to do this job quickly. She moved to the counter to her left, opening her pouch as she went. There were several near priceless rare herbs and ingredients stored out of sight on the shelves behind the counter. She even noticed a large purse of septims and several gems. Either Zaria's business was more successful than the Guild had been led to believe, or she was into illicit activities; not too unsurprising for some alchemists. Diana wondered for a moment if her little stratagem would have as much affect as it did in Riften and Windhelm.

 _If anything, this could make things better,_ she thought to herself as she broke open a nearby chest to add the Guild's investment to the contents. She placed the letter she'd written to lead the alchemist to the money in plain view on the counter, held in place by a shiny sapphire, as an apology for trespassing and remaining anonymous. _I'd better get out of here._ _Zaria could be up at any second._

The idea was Diana's: invest and patience. She had nearly been laughed out of the Flagon when she'd pitched it.

 _"We're thieves!"Vex had pointed out, over Rune's rude guffaws, "Why would we give wealth away?"_

But Diana had argued so fiercely to Delvin and the then Guild-Master Mercer, a feat no fresh recruit would have dared try, that they had allowed her to use her own money to put her idea in motion. It took over three long months to save up 40,000 septims from various jobs. With Asher's help, she invested into every lucrative business in Riften and Windhelm, by visiting and posing as an anonymous businesswoman or breaking in and leaving investments since her face would've been recognized. The business owners were encouraged to develop better products and were able to charge accordingly. Just as she expected, they took to the opportunity at once. Once they got successful enough, the Guild had to work overtime to steal little over 180,000 worth of septims and loot in total. She was given a large portion of the profits in order to pay her back for her initial investment. Her efforts earned the respect of nearly every other member, even Rune, who was still slightly salty since the day she shot down his advances. Most of the Guild was too concerned with making their own money and drinking that it fell to Diana, Asher, Brynolf, and Karliah to rebuild the organization once Mercer had been outed as a traitor.

It was hard work but now the Ragged Flagon was nearly back to its old glory; Asher had found and returned the Skeleton Key and killed Mercer while Diana helped spread Guild influence, running more successful missions and heists for Delvin and Vex than anyone else by three times. Even some traveling merchants started setting up shop in the Flagon, what with its now booming economy and clientele rate. Diana was now highly respected as a Guild leader, arguably third in command only to Delvin and Guild-Master Asher, as the brains of the Thieves Guild. He had appointed her to her position the day he was assigned as the Head.

 _"You're smarter than me any day of the week," he'd said, sending her heart aflutter, "And a damn better thief than anyone is this godforsaken sewer." The young Imperial had given her a rare smile, one that was reserved for her alone._ Would the Guild, would Asher, still accept her if she came back a vampire? Surely, by now he felt the same way she did about him…

 _Focus,_ she thought to herself as her heart skipped again, _the job's not done yet._ The rest of her job that night went well; she employed the same tactics to the blacksmith's residence and the general store, but went more openly to the corrupt Jarl Siddgeir.

Keeping her face shrouded she gently shook him awake.

"Wha- What the? Who are you, how did you get past the gua-" His young voice started to rise, before Diana clamped a hand to his mouth. The Jarl's eyes burned with indignity but he was smart enough to realize he was at the disadvantage.

"Calm down, my Jarl. I mean you no harm; I'm here to talk."

Siddgeir's eyes darted around the dark room, coming to a stop on the guard slumped onto the ground just outside his door. Diana followed his sight.

"Worry not, Jarl Siddgeir. He will just be out for another 20 minutes. I just wanted to give you something; you'll behave if I remove my hand?" The Jarl's eyes narrowed in suspicion and curiosity as he slowly nodded and then widened when Diana plopped a large coin purse onto his chest, causing him to cough from the unexpected weight.

"What in the hell is this?" he coughed, sitting up and looking inside, tilting the bag so the moonlight could illuminate the clinking coins.

Diana smiled and stood, pacing back and forth with her arms clasped behind her back.

"An investment, my Jarl. I am not a resident of this town but I am of the Hold," she lied, letting the small amount of light in the room expose her lower face as she walked back toward him, "It's time, in my opinion, that we see some changes in this Hold, so that we can improve the lives of Falkreath's citizens and boost the economy. What say you to that?"

Jarl Siddgeir, she suspected, was behind the distribution of skooma in the entire southern regions of Skyrim, so she was betting that he would make much headway into turning a profit from a loan; a profit that the Guild would return to relinquish from the boy. Only Asher trusted her on this one, but she calculated that in time, she would be proven right again. Almost without question, Siddgeir seemed extremely eager to take free money. She could see the wheels turning in his head, she thought as she made her way back to the inn, pulling her hood down and wiping her brow.

Dawn was barely peeking over the trees and the wind had died down as she instinctively moved faster, pulling her hood back on her head in an effort to shield the perspective and instincts were already changing, she realized as she half-ran. Either the summer night had been shining somewhat more brilliantly, or her night vision was improving. Furthermore, even with the stamina potion working against the draining bite, she felt a very slight weariness that had nothing to do with what she'd felt since the attack. Moreover, she felt, it had to do with the rising sun. What else would change? How could she be sure that she would be able to control herself when the final change did happen?

Darian was still asleep by the time Diana made it back to his room. Quietly she took off her boots and settled in her previous meditation spot, thankfully out of the path of the sun rising through the window. She looked at her brother, listening to the way he snored. She gave a small smile before it slid off her face. There was no way she was willing to risk his life. _There's no guarantee I'll be safe to be around, at least at first._ _I'm going to have to shake him and do this on my own..._ The question was how? She knew him better than anyone. He was so stubborn with whatever it is he set his mind to and refused to relent unless confronted with superior logic. Sure, she might be smarter than him, but it was going to be hard to combat his sibling instinct to protect her when she didn't have a plan; _He's not dumb either. He's determined_. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, thinking hard, trying to come up with a way to protect him. It wasn't ten minutes before she heard him rouse.

"I will never understand how you could sit so still for so long," he said in his gruff morning voice.

"Good morning to you too," she grinned, opening her eyes and pretending to stretch. "I thought you'd be out for much longer than that."

"You've been sitting there this whole time? What time is it?" He looked out the window, the sun high and shining, "You let me oversleep!"

"You needed it, brother. I don't think you realized how tired you were. Half the time I couldn't even hear you talking, you were mumbling so much."

Darian ignored her jibe, pulling on his boots and pack. "We need to get going, every minute counts now." Diana sat on her bed, watching her brother get dressed and sheathe his sword, wondering how to start.

"Hey, Darian," she began. He looked up, halfway through swinging on his quiver and bow. She opened her mouth, but after a second closed it, thinking she needed more time to plan. "Um, never mind. Let's just go find Solaf and the rest." _I've got to convince him somehow..._ Hopefully Solaf or those Dawnguard folks could persuade him to journey with them. She sighed, knowing it would be unlikely to keep him away from her, no matter what they said. She glanced at the window and winced as the sun's rays touched her. It didn't hurt. It just felt uncomfortable, as if the heat itself was forcing her blood to move slowly. Was it true then that vampires couldn't go out in the sun? What would happen? Would she burst into flame? If only someone could teach her!

Darian splashed water from the tub in his face and rubbed his eyes. "Alright, let's go. I've got some money to buy the horses and food in my pack so we should be good until Morthal." He said, giving his pack one last rummage before swinging it onto his side and reaching for the door handle. He stopped short, however. His way blocked by Agmaer with his fist raised, ready to knock.

"Oh. Oh, um. Hi." The lad stammered glancing at Diana and then to the floor. "They wanted to know if- if you wanted to meet for breakfast."

"Of course, thank you. We'll be right out," said Diana before Darian could reply. He glared at her pointedly as Agmaer started off back the way he came. She shrugged.

"I didn't want to be rude," she quipped, sliding past him through the doorway and after the boy. She heard her brother sigh before the door closed. She smiled, promising herself she would find a way to protect him.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think, whether you liked it or hated it. I've been tossing around how to tell the full story and I came to the conclusion that it was too big for only one character's viewpoint. So while Darian still is the main character, his sister, Solaf, and possibly other will be POV characters as well. Leave a review and let me know what you think! It means so much to me! Next chapter is in the works.**

 **Thanks again, The Fit Nerd**


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